Little Fire in the Big Trash Can

Mom glanced out her window at the sound of the explosion. Or perhaps it was the border collie levitating from the ground outside, in through the window, and into her lap, that first drew her attention.

Damon stood next to the flaming trash can, making feeble shooing motions. Water...something about fire...and water...  Seizing his tiny water bottle, he spritzed the fire, all to no avail. Though he later denied it, a Very Reliable Eyewitness even saw him try to spit on it. 

It took Mom several precious moments to dislodge the levitating border collie from her lap so she could lend her aid, but at last help arrived in the form of 5+ gallons of water. Tina's water, if anyone is counting. (She certainly was.)

Mom wouldn't let Damon leave till everything had stopped smoking. Just as they drove out of sight, a fire engine rounded the corner, lights flashing. I'm sure it was all part of the street fair going on just then, and that there was no connection to the aforementioned events. I only tell it as a curiosity, nothing more.

The fireworks show that night was stunning, in our yard and out of it. Jack, John John, and our neighbors had kind of a Dueling Banjos routine going on. The neighbors would light off a round, and our boys would try and light something bigger.  

Out of all the kits, there was one small, innocent-looking firework that Jack and John John judged much too dangerous to light off. It was a little triple number, roundish, and would fit in the palm of a man's hand. The idea was to nail it to a tree, light it, and watch it spin in circles while spraying sparks everywhere. 

That little firework has fascinated both boys ever since. After an explanation of the danger, and strait warnings not to play with it, they obeyed. Until yesterday.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea about Devon, and think that he gave no heed to safety considerations. He would not DREAM of setting off such a dangerous incendiary device during the worst windstorm we've had in several months, without taking certain precautions. He weighted it down with a rock so it couldn't spin! Voila!

It must have been a delightfully naughty pleasure to watch the forbidden firecracker go off, and the near gale-force winds hid every trace of sound from my questioning ears. Devon took one more precaution, by carefully smothering it with dirt after he finished. After all, safety first.

Then he went merrily off to do woodworking projects, while enough time lapsed that he could see no common point between his disobedience and the subsequent twin beams of smoke.

You know the rest.

After being sentenced to Home Service and Community Service (for the local fire department, of course), Devon learned his lesson. He never again disobeyed, or did anything wrong. My blog crumpled and collapsed from lack of material.

Well, I don't think we have to worry about that happening, but he has definitely learned his lesson about fireworks, and won't light off any more without permission. 

This year. 

Time to sharpen the ole Pulaski,

Noni Beth