this started as a contest, and evolved into a collection of mostly poetry |
We stopped by this fireworks stand. Oh by, the guy behind the counter Was trying to sell us some serious ammo, But Dad just wanted something That would shoot up and explode Like a fourth of July thing. Not the sissy black cats and sparklers You're probably used to. So we waited around for it to get dark... Ok, so I would first like to point out That there were no WRITTEN instructions Anywhere on the fireworks. Just sic little pictures On the side of the launching tube, Three showing the RIGHT way to do it And three showing the WRONG way to do it. Savannah and I took over the setup Loading the fireworks correctly Into the sturdy cardboard tube. And dad just lit 'em. This little tag tam worked great, And the seven fireworks we shot off Were grand Just like the fourth of July. Then Dad had to go and be retarded, And even though I SHOWED him the picture Of the right way to put the bulb into the tube, He still put it in upside down. So he lights it. And we all tilt our heads back After we hear the initial explosion, And expect another explosion in the sky Where a spectrum of sparks Would normally just explode In an orb shape high above our heads. But since it was incorrectly loaded Into the launcher, When we heard the second explosion, There was nothing, And we were like- Huh, a dud? For about six nano-seconds. The I happened to notice A giant orb of singing colors Traveling at all heights Over the grass in all directions But most importantly Aimed at my feet, knees, and face. We pretty much all screamed Like the girls we are And stumbled back. Then Savannah's- "HOLY SHIT!" Alerts us to the sparks Which had ignited two small fires in the backyard, Which were stomped out. And then I noticed the neighbor's field Of high grass was on fire And spreading, and getting bigger And kind of scary And I screamed- "DAD!!!" He jumped over pretty quick for an old dude Despite the double barbed wire fence. He called for his shoes, To beat out the fire Since he had given them to me To wear over my little flip-flops In the prickly grass. The fire finally went out And he had a harder time climbing Back over the fence Once the adrenaline was gone. We pretty much decided then That we'd had enough With the flipping fireworks. Didn't expect them to be THAT exciting, Really. Completely blew the launcher to smithereens anyway. Just goes to show: boys and explosives sometimes don't mix well. |