When I was nine, my dad lit the field next to our house on fire with an errant bottle rocket. We wouldn’t have even known it, but our neighbor, a volunteer firefighter, came running out of his house with a shovel to valiantly attack the blaze. (Truth be told, it wasn’t a very big fire.) My dad is still mortified by his recklessness. I thought it was awesome.Then a friend mine once saw an old guy lighting bottle rockets right out of his left hand. He was holding the fireworks by squeezing its stakes between his two knobby ring and pinkie fingers … because those were the only two fingers he had left. Not oblivious to my friend’s stare, the old geezer turned to him with a hard eyeball, flicked his lighter and lit another bottle rocket from his mangled claw. "This is how I lost the first three" he said, propelling the flaming spear toward the heavens.Have a safe Fourth of July!
The Rocket's Red Glare
.... Is Actually Blood. From Your Hand Bursting In Flames!
1 min read
