There's A Hole in My Bucket

It’s a well-known fact that Liza Dufresne was always the brains in the family. She was the one who always came up with the brilliant schemes the Dufresne kids carried out when they were younger. Like when they tricked Mrs. Claybourn into paying for a trip to Disney World. Liza convinced her that their parents had been kidnapped and were being held for ransom for the total price of three tickets. In reality, they were away on a weekend getaway for their anniversary. When they returned, Liza told the Claybourns that they did not like to talk about the ordeal. Their parents never found out how they got the money. Mrs. Claybourn never found out that the Dufresne parents were never really in any danger.

While Liza was the smartest, William and Henry were equally stupid. Liza had to be the one who would talk her brothers out of doing dumb things that could have gotten them seriously hurt, if not killed. Like the time when William wanted to bungee jump from the roof of their one-story house. Using a twenty-foot cord to jump from a ten-foot structure may have seemed fun until you hit the ground. She took a water balloon, tied it to a string, and threw it off the roof. When it burst on the ground, he got the point.

And when Henry asked William to light a stick of dynamite under a garbage can lid while he sat on it, he wanted to see how high he would get in the sky. His goal was to land on the roof. She placed an M-80 under the lid, which is only one percent the power of dynamite, and placed his weight in garbage on it. The lid and the trash were destroyed. He got the point.

Most of the time, that was all it took. A demonstration. A small explosion. A burst balloon. A ruined trash can. William and Henry were not bright, but they were capable of learning through dramatic visuals.

But this time William could not be talked out of his plan. He wasn’t listening to anything she had to say. He researched it. He watched videos. He read articles. He studied physics—at least the parts he understood. He reinforced wood with metal bands. He tested flotation in the backyard pool. He did everything he could to stay safe.

He was going to ride down Niagara Falls in a bucket.

“It’s called a barrel,” she said. “Not a bucket.”

“Whatever.”

“So, what’s to prevent you from tilting over?”

“I put weights in the bottom. It’s bottom heavy.”

“How do you know it will float?”

“It’s made of wood. Wood floats. And I sealed the bottom with liquid rubber.”

“How will you survive the fall?”

“It’s cushioned inside.”

“What can I do to talk you out of this?”

“I’m doing this.”

“Fine. At least let me help.”

“Great! You can hold the bucket still while I get in.”

“It’s a barrel, not a bucket. Anyway, I’m going to give you a walkie-talkie so that you can communicate with me the entire time.”

“I’d appreciate that very much.”

On June 25th, William Dufresne placed his bucket—I mean barrel—into the Niagara River. With the suggestion of Liza, a rope was connected to the bucket, um, barrel to stabilize it before launch. Tourists stared. A few recorded. One man clapped, assuming this was some sort of performance art.

William climbed in, clutching his walkie-talkie like a lifeline. Liza cut the rope.

Shortly after that, a problem started.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” William said. “I’m in trouble. I sprung a leak. There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza.”

Liza rolled her eyes. “I warned you this was a bad idea. What do you expect me to do?”

“Help! There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.”

“First of all, it’s a barrel. Second, you are just going to have to mend it.”

“With what? How am I going to mend this? I don’t know what to do. With what should I mend it?”

“My lord! William, can’t you think for yourself? OK. I’m going to send you some straw with my drone. Use it to patch the hole. It’s all I have right now.”

“Straw should work. Send it.”

The drone buzzed overhead, wobbling slightly in the mist. A small bundle dropped into the barrel.

“Did you get it?” she asked.

“Yes. I got it. But wait. The straw is too long. I can’t use it, dear Liza. It’s too long.”

“Lord! Willy.”

“You know I hate it when you call me Willy.”

“Just use your brain. Cut it. That’s all you have to do. Cut the straw.”

“How? With what can I cut the straw? I’m floating in a bucket. I don’t have anything.”

“You don’t have a knife on you? You always carry a pocketknife. And it’s a barrel. Not a bucket.”

“Yes, I do. But the knife is too dull. I can’t cut melted butter with this thing.”

“Well, sharpen it. It’s that simple. Just sharpen the knife.”

“Do it look like I have a knife sharpener? No! I don’t.”

“You put some stones in the bucket—um, barrel to weigh it down, remember. Use one to sharpen the knife.”

“That’s a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that? I think I can reach one. No! I would get the only dry stone. The stone is too dry. It’s not going to work.”

“You nut. Just wet the stone. It’s that simple.”

“With what—”

“Don’t even ask that question. Wet the stone with spit. Water, fool. Wet the stone with water.”

“How am I going to get some water? I don’t have anything to get water.”

“You’re in a river. Stick it in the river.”

“I’m not sticking my hand in that water. I don’t know what’s in there.”

“In that case, I’m sorry, Willy, you’re screwed.”

By this point, the current had quickened. The sound of the falls grew louder—less like rushing water and more like continuous thunder. Mist rose in thick sheets. The barrel rocked.

“Liza?”

“Yes?”

“I think I see the edge.”

“Well, that would make sense.”

“Any more advice?”

“Yes. Next time, listen to your sister.”

On June 25th, at exactly thirty-two seconds past twelve noon, William’s barrel—or bucket—went over the falls. It tipped once. It vanished in the mist. It hit the rocks at the bottom and shattered into splinters. There was no way anyone could survive.

However, William’s body was not found.

He was later discovered in the back seat of an NYPD squad car along with his sister, Liza. As it turns out, it’s a crime to attempt to ride a barrel, a bucket, or any container over the falls. Shockingly, as smart as Liza claimed to be, she did not know this fact. She didn’t do any research on the subject. She researched buoyancy. She researched wood density. She researched cushioning material. But she never researched legality.

They now have one month of time behind bars to sit down and think of what they’ve done.

I guess that sometimes, smart people do stupid things.