Can I Get A Light?
Whether it was the 4th of July or New Year’s Eve, fireworks always played a major role in the festivities.
When I was young my mother wouldn’t allow me to play with matches, however, I was allowed to handle an object that had the potential to burn at a temperature of up to 2000 °F – oh yes, the beloved sparkler.
Sparklers were perfect for kids who shouldn’t have been fooling around with things such as M-80s but still wanted to participate in the action. What was a girl to do when she had a box of sparklers but couldn’t use matches?
I can tell you this much, sparklers do not light off of “punks”- those skinny, brown sticks - glorified incense - used to ignite any form of explosive that had a wick. Also, asking others to light one for you was more irritating than a schizophrenic bum begging for a cigarette.
So, being the industrious pyro-in-training that I was, I immediately thought of the gas stove. Off I went with much enthusiasm, the silver stick held tightly in my fingers. Within seconds of clicking the knob, the awesome display of cascading sparks came to life and illuminated not only the kitchen but also the wicked gleam in my eyes.
Carefully but quickly, I walked to the door; however, I didn’t make it outside in time. All that was left was a coiled, black stick. Hmm. Back to the kitchen.
Determination set in - this time I was going to make it. I lit another and shot out of the gate like a racehorse. Frantically, I ran through the house, with this glowing device held at arm’s length in front of me as if it were a bomb. I screamed at anyone in my path to get out of the way, zigzagged around furniture, and kicked it into high gear for the home stretch toward the front door.
Much to my satisfaction, it continued to burn brightly. I proceeded to create the classic designs of circles, figure 8s, and wrote my name in the air. Glorious. Also, I had the brilliant notion to light the next one off of that one which worked like a charm.
Chain sparkling. I wonder if the Surgeon General has a warning about that?
When I was young my mother wouldn’t allow me to play with matches, however, I was allowed to handle an object that had the potential to burn at a temperature of up to 2000 °F – oh yes, the beloved sparkler.
Sparklers were perfect for kids who shouldn’t have been fooling around with things such as M-80s but still wanted to participate in the action. What was a girl to do when she had a box of sparklers but couldn’t use matches?
I can tell you this much, sparklers do not light off of “punks”- those skinny, brown sticks - glorified incense - used to ignite any form of explosive that had a wick. Also, asking others to light one for you was more irritating than a schizophrenic bum begging for a cigarette.
So, being the industrious pyro-in-training that I was, I immediately thought of the gas stove. Off I went with much enthusiasm, the silver stick held tightly in my fingers. Within seconds of clicking the knob, the awesome display of cascading sparks came to life and illuminated not only the kitchen but also the wicked gleam in my eyes.
Carefully but quickly, I walked to the door; however, I didn’t make it outside in time. All that was left was a coiled, black stick. Hmm. Back to the kitchen.
Determination set in - this time I was going to make it. I lit another and shot out of the gate like a racehorse. Frantically, I ran through the house, with this glowing device held at arm’s length in front of me as if it were a bomb. I screamed at anyone in my path to get out of the way, zigzagged around furniture, and kicked it into high gear for the home stretch toward the front door.
Much to my satisfaction, it continued to burn brightly. I proceeded to create the classic designs of circles, figure 8s, and wrote my name in the air. Glorious. Also, I had the brilliant notion to light the next one off of that one which worked like a charm.
Chain sparkling. I wonder if the Surgeon General has a warning about that?
posted by On My Watch at 07:12
10 Comments:
The days before Halloween us "punks" would solicit somebody's uncle to purchase various illegal incendiary devices out of the back of a pcikup... Yes many of the local hick-town police experienced the horror of bottle rockets, Black Cats and lady fingers hurled in their general direction by camo-clad pubescents from various vantage points immersed in foilage-oh to be young again! Nice story!
thanks -- what a deviant! :)
when I was in the AF and had the chance to throw hand-grenades, the instructor figured I'd be scared since I was a girl - little did he know. ;)
Ha ha! Excellent! Hope you had a blast.
absolutely - and it only took 4 seconds. :)
a must have in the pyromaniacs's starter kit.
Yes, the pyro starter kit. The premium one has a Zippo. Much like Sam Malone's babe kit complete with a Member's Only jacket.
there's no way I could have a zippo as a child- do you think my parents were made of money?! :)
I love Zippos.
When I was a smoker I loved them, too. I did make the mistake of lighting a cigar with one...that's a no-no unless you want to smoke a cigar that has a "lighter-fluid" taste. "Cigar-Lite", maybe. Wah-wah-wah-waaaaaaaaaaaaah.
somehow I don't think that'll make the cover of Cigar Aficionado.
:-)
I remember I once dropped a sparkler and attempted to put it out by stepping on it. Bad idea...I was wearing tennis shoes and the thing stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Naturally the rubber bottom melted around the sparkler. So much for my Keds!!
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