A friend and I went out to visit one of his old army buddies. His buddy owned a nice stretch of property with a shooting range, so we brought lots of guns and ammo. The first day was great. Lots of fun and interesting conversation, a few war stories, then we put everything up and went drinking. We got totally shit faced.

The next day, we drank some more, made deer chili, and spent some more time on the range. The army buddy liked shooting tannerite (it explodes with a quick flash when you shoot it, like a firework). At some point, he dragged an old mini-fridge out to the range and said it had a shit load of tannerite in it.

If you contain an explosive in something metal, you've made a bomb. I expressed that I was worried about shrapnel and the very drunk army buddy told me to stop being such a pussy. I decided I was going to take the 4x4 cart and be a pussy from up the hill. It took them several shots to ignite the tannerite, but when it went off it was a huge explosion. Sure enough, the mini-fridge door hit my friend in the chest, breaking several ribs, shattering his collar bone and shoulder, collapsing one of his lungs, and he had multiple lacerations from shrapnel. Army buddy also got hit with shrapnel but he just needed stitches.

It took almost 30 minutes to get them to the ER and my friend almost died on the way. The door hit him perfectly flat. If a corner or side had hit him instead, he definitely would have died. The thing is, he was standing exactly where I had been.