A Constructive Use For

Firecrackers

DISCLAIMER: WHILE THIS IS A TRUE STORY, PLAYING WITH FIREWORKS IN ANY SITUATION IS NOT SAFE, AND SHOULD NOT BE DONE.

Participants: a.) one group of 7 kids with attitudes not unlike those of the Little Rascals; b.) the chief of police; c.) the wife of the chief of police; d.) the scapegoats

Locale: 1/4 mile away from the downtown section of a rather prestigious town in New England.

Buildings involved: one 3 story barn, one garden shed belonging to the chief of police.

Other equipment: one large roasting pan; string; one stick.

It was like something out of a story book - but even better.

Who would have thought that your dorky older brother would have left on vacation with a tackle box full of tackle and returned with a tackle box full of firecrackers!

We didn't mind that firecrackers were against the law - this was too big an opportunity to miss. But it had to be good, just in case we DID get caught, because if we were just standing around lighting the things off, that's nothing. So we put our collective heads together and tried to think.

It actually didn't take long, once we'd searched the cellar and the barn.

When we had everything we needed, we went down the slope to the back of the barn, with everything we needed.

Now, we weren't stupid kids. We had a lookout, just in case. Deanie, standing up at the top of the hill had about a 1/4 mile view down the street towards town.

We proceeded to have a blast (no pun intended), shooting the top of the roasting pan over the roof of the three story barn.

What we hadn't reckoned on was: 1.)the old lady across the street; and, 2.)the fact that this event occurred not too long after the huge blackout along the Eastern seaboard.

Suddenly, in the midst of our fun, Deanie bellows: HERE THEY COME!!!

We'd prepared for this eventuality. Luckily (or maybe not so lucky), we'd kept one SPECIAL surprise. And we proceeded to get ready. At the sight of Deanie heading down the get away path in the woods, we lit 'er off.

Picture this: old type cop car with the bubble thingy on the top. Seven kids who can run faster than the cops, and who know that where they're headed is the LAST place on earth the chief is going to look.

The cop car couldn't have timed it better. Just as it came to a halt in front of the barn, the roasting pan came to a halt - right smack on top of the bubble thingy on the cop car.

The kids, meanwhile, were 6 acres away, hiding in the garden shed at the chief's house, after happily waving to his wife, who simply ignored us except to wave back.

He never really did prove it was the seven of us who did it, because of course we had an alibi and a scapegoat. But it did lead to a short period of time during which at least ONE of the town cops was usually around whenever there were two or more of us together.

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