CHAPTER 3 “Strike Three”
Two more years of correct Super Bowl and Kentucky Derby predictions and I make the headlines again.
You see, next to donuts and rollercoasters, the only thing I love more is fireworks! My parents were married on the Fourth of July under a sky filled with fireworks. My Mother said, “I do,” during the grand finale. So, you see, I’ve loved fireworks since before I was born.
The bad taste of last year’s Fourth of July experience was still in my mouth like medicine poorly disguised under cherry flavoring. I made the big mistake of letting my family pick the location to watch the fireworks. We got there, set up our blanket, and waited. As darkness approached, the excitement grew, everyone waited in anticipation to hear the PUM of the first rocket being launched, followed by an explosion of color in the sky. We didn’t hear the PUM, we saw the explosion, but it was puny; we were over a mile away from the launch site. I tried to quickly gather the family and move closer but my Mom, my Dad, even my Brother and Sister said it was good enough. GOOD ENOUGH!!!
It’s good enough if you like watery milkshakes made with low-calorie ice milk. I don’t, I like cream, thick rich cream with extra cream on top and whipped cream on top of that! At that moment, I vowed next year I was going to be so close to the fireworks that ashes would fall on me.
The first step was to research the exact location of the fireworks launch site, then and only then would I be able to find the perfect position for optimal viewing. I called the local municipality and found the address of the launch site. I thought it would be wise to personally scout the location to make sure the tragedy of last year didn’t repeat itself. Of course, my family disagreed with me when I brought it up for a vote at dinner.
My family is what my parents call a democratic family; it means we vote on any decisions that affect the whole family. I didn’t know what the word democratic meant but it used to bother me intensely. My ideas were constantly being voted down four to one. It stopped bothering me when I learned to sneak out my bedroom window.
That night I slept in my clothes, and I set my alarm for one in the morning. I woke up exactly five minutes before the alarm, shut it off, and was out the window like a cat. I always thought it was strange how easy it was for me to get up early to sneak out of the house, but so hard to get up on time to go to school. It’s a phenomenon that’s noted but not understood.
With my bike, I knew I could make it to the fireworks launch site in fifteen minutes maybe less. The roads are empty at this hour, and I’m flying. I don’t stop at a single stop sign or red light and I’m ahead of schedule.
I pull up to the park and find the fireworks exactly where they were supposed to be. It’s an overpowering feeling, it reminds me of when I found the Christmas presents three days before Christmas. Now I stand a few feet from my dream come true, separated by only a fence. I want to get in with them, but I keep to the task at hand. I walk around and survey the area. I even lay down on the ground in various spots to find the best location for optimal viewing.
The trouble started with the small seed of an idea, a simple thought to climb the fence and get a closer look at the fireworks. This small seed grew and became an uncontrollable desire to inspect the fireworks up close. The conversation in my mind went something like this - What could happen? Nothing could happen. Who’s it going to hurt? Who could it hurt? Why shouldn’t I get a better look? You deserve a closer look. No one loves fireworks as much as I do. The decision is made, I scale the ten-foot fence like a monkey, balance at the top for a second, then jump down on the other side.
I find myself in a field of fireworks. It was overwhelming being next to hundreds of rockets lined up, waiting to be launched. There were all kinds of rockets, they were just like people, tall skinny rockets, short chubby rockets, and many sizes in between. I somehow got possessed or something because I did what I knew was wrong. In fact, I heard the “Voice” but didn’t listen. I decide to light off just one of them. There were hundreds of rockets, how bad could it be to light one? This reasoning came from another voice; a voice from an area in me that’s selfish and shortsighted; nevertheless, I listened.
I found a nice thick fuse; somehow, I thought the thickest fuse would be the safest. Without any more thought or ceremony, I lit the fuse, and then the unthinkable happened, that single fuse broke off into fifty fuses. I LIT THE GRAND FINALE!
I frantically try to put them out, but there are fifty fuses running in fifty different directions. I panicked and froze; sparks danced along the fuses toward the rockets. By the time I regained my senses, it was too late. At the last minute, I dive back, roll, and find myself staring up at a sky filled with a rainbow of colors. The grand finale goes off right over me, ashes rained down upon me. This was the greatest moment of my life!... until the police arrived.
That was the third strike, the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was arrested for vandalism, banned from public school, and sentenced to Rockweiler Academy of Correction. A Correction Facility for kids/inmates too young to be in the main prison system.
Rockweiler Academy is notoriously evil.