If you read my post recently about my misadventures with a stupid grease gun then you will be able to appreciate my latest encounter. A new addition to this story is that my son is always a spectator when these things happen. I want stuff greased right and I know he won't go to the extra effort to fight this crazy beast and get the thing greased, so I am always going round and round with the grease gun while he is doing other things. He has seen most of the circus acts and heard most of the fits I have thrown and knows to stay out of my way when I have a grease gun in my hand. Saturday morning we were getting equipment ready to bale hay. It was going to be a long day and as usual I am in a hurry and not in a mood of playfullness and pranks. I am stepping fast and looking worried. As usual the grease gun runs out of grease. But that's ok. I was expecting it to do this and I had brought a new tube with me to install. I'm cool here. Justin just happens to be standing right beside me and is captured from escape by the tractor and barn wall. He immedately gets tense. I unscrew the barrell from the head and lay the head and lever down on the tractor tire. I hold the barrell in my left hand and pull the tee handle with my right hand. As I am trying to get the long rod to lock into place and hold the spring compressed, the tee handle comes off of the end of the rod. The rod with the rubber piston on the end is the first projectile that flys out across the shop. It is followed by the spring itself and they both splatter grease on at least three different places before they stop. I am standing there holding the barrell and tee handle. I immediately drop them both and kick at the same time. The barrell has not been found yet. After about 3 seconds of fear Justin explodes in laughter. He is useless for the rest of the day. I ain't never seen a kid laugh that much. He dang near made me laugh. Stupid grease gun!