It's warm in this remote campground on the Lostine River, and the big horseflies are irritating so I decide to swat some of them. Only, to make things more interesting (and my hand reflexes are still pretty quick), I use a small ball-peen hammer (the flat end) and start swinging. The hammer hitting the table makes quite a racket and after 15 kills the neighboring campers have all turned their heads towards me. "It's all right, I shout - this hammer was made in the good old US of A!" They all turn away, shaking the ice in their cocktail glasses, indicating their approval.
WHAM! Number 16. I'm the Americanist.
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