Unlike some of you out there, who are either much more brave or much more stupid than I am, I cannot handle the fourth of July celebrations here in America. In fact, I’m pretty sure that my fourth of July should be spent in Canada. Probably the whole weekend leading up to it, too. But alas, I do not have a passport, nor anywhere to stay for that long. So instead I have to deal with my inane fears a different way.
Getting completely and utterly shitfaced.
See, I have a problem with fireworks. If any of you have a dog, you pretty much know my reaction to them. For those of you who don’t, let me paint you a picture of what my fourth of July’s previous to living a college town life have been like: Me, huddled in a corner of my room, headphones in and iPod turned as high as it can go, trying to read a book and just maintain myself with my dog lying next to me shaking in fear. I usually am shaking a little, too. The shaking dies down when there’s a brief respite in the noise level, but once it starts up again my heart is pounding in my chest and I feel that the end is surely nigh, we are all going to die in about two seconds because some idiot certainly just sent a firework spiraling into one of the many evergreens towering above our house.
I don’t like the fourth of July. I haven’t since I was a kid when I suffered an unfortunate sparkler incident and my brothers liked to feed me stories of people losing their fingers or noses or something, and I don’t think that I ever will. At least, not without something to make me relax and cope.
You know how most people deal with dogs that go crazy during the fourth of July? They lock them in the house and hope they don’t pee on everything or have a heart attack. This used to be the plan of action for me.
You know how some people deal with dogs that go crazy during the fourth of July? They feed them drugs to relax them and make them completely chill with everything that could possibly happen ever. This is basically what my friends do to me. They provide me with copious amounts of alcohol (actually, this year I’m supplying myself and them with it) so that they can set off fireworks and I can still enjoy their company. Otherwise I’m pretty sure last year would have been spent with me hiding in the nearest tree and refusing to come down.
This is the same plan we have this year for me. After we all go to the river, we’re going to have a huge bbq and then my friend swill set off fireworks. There may even be another Roman Candle War (in which two idiots, goaded by the surrounding idiots, aim and fire Roman Candles at each other, trusting their instincts to fling them out of the way in time). All I know for sure is that I’m getting shish kabob’s and red rum mixed in apple juice. Pretty sure this combination will make for a good fourth of July this year.
P.S. I’m going to do my best to get tomorrows flash fiction up before I leave, even if it means that it’s just another microfiction piece. Yes, I’m cheating a little. But I figure it’s the same basic concept, so that’s alright.
Work in Progress 