With all the
fireworks making noises in the wild dark yonder for the past few days Willow
has become a nervous wreck. A trembling
ball of boney fir (she lost some weight).
She seems to
be looking at us, her teeth chattering, say, "Fools! Don't they know fireworks can hurt
people?"
As Willow
tells me this in trembling body language I am reminded of once about 1950:
I found a
Roman candle somebody tossed away because it had no fuse. Fireworks was against the law - I hid my new
Roman cannon. I thought about it for a
couple of days and figured how to make a
fuse that may or may not work.
I was eager to try it, in the middle of the day
I tried it. If it worked it would have been prettier and
more impressive at night, but I was impatient.
Also, I had no friends close by to "Oooh" and "Ahh"
over my ingenuity. But I didn't.
I lit the
fuse and ran. Nothing happened.
I came back,
picked it up and it appeared the fuse was a dud
About that same moment the fuse sparkled up and shot towards the
cannon. It scared me, I wasn't
ready. I reach the end of the candle to
pull out the fuse the same time it went off, shooting a white-hot blaze onto
the right hand palm.
It was the
worse pain I have ever had up to that moment.
I rolled in agony. I don't recall how my injured hand looked, I guess I erased that part from my memory, but I do remember avoid exposing my palm upward and visible.
I did not
dare telling my family because Daddy was a policeman and fireworks were against
the law. Either he would lock me up or
he wouldn't, either way it would put him in an awkward position.
I decided to
walk to the Strand Theater, 1.1 miles
away. I bought my ticket, at the
concession stand I bought a large Coke with "plenty of ice) and submerged
my sizzling hand down into it. I sat through the same move a couple of
times. When the ice melted I talked the
concession lady to fill my cup full of ice and I good for a while more.
I don't know
how I hid all that from my parents, but I don't think they ever found out.
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