I know that you are expecting another highly entertaining installment of this blog’s extremely popular Sundays With Satan Short Story Series, but you are getting this Public Service Announcement about Fireworks Safety instead. So deal with it.
I am The Devil, The Prince of Darkness, and your host for this enlightening PSA that might very well safe your life, and at the very least, ensure that you can continue to count to ten on your fingers.
Austin will not be with us tonight because, truth be told, he has something of a fireworks phobia. I’ll explain that in a moment, but for now, all you need to know is that you’re mine for the next five hundred or so words, and you don’t have the nice guy in the goofy toga to bail you out with his witty comments and silly stories.
It’s just you, The Overlord of the Underworld, my pitchfork, and some scary ass threats about what’s going to happen to you if you don’t exercise extreme caution with fireworks while celebrating the holiday.
Don’t shoot off fireworks if you’re intoxicated, stupid. That should be common sense, but emergency rooms overflow every Independence Day with patients suffering from mangled hands and severe burns because they either lit a fuse while drunk, or some drunk shot off fireworks in their general direction.
Leave the fireworks to the professionals. You wouldn’t perform brain surgery on the Fourth of July simply because you were feeling all patriotic, would you? So why the Hell do you think you can suddenly play the part of pyrotechnic expert? Sit your ass down and watch the fireworks show from a safe distance.
Do not let children anywhere near the fireworks. If I were you, I wouldn’t even let them watch the fireworks show lest it give them a taste for the deadly bang bang. Kids are not good at math, so they need all their fingers just to get their homework done. If they can’t figure out simple addition and subtraction, what the Hell makes you think they are smart enough to light a mini bomb? How stupid are you?
As for Austin and his aversion to fireworks, I’m going to share a story that he hates to tell because it still gives him nightmares.
After he graduated from NYU, he lived in an apartment in Bay Ridge. One Fourth of July, someone was shooting off fireworks on the next street. One of the dangerous explosives misfired and ended up stuck under the house behind the one in which Austin lived.
The house burned down and its occupants died in the blaze. All because some drunk meathead decided it would be cool to shoot off bottle rockets on a residential street in Brooklyn. The people roasted in their sleep. Not a nice way to die.
Austin was so traumatized by what happened that he refuses to be in the presence of fireworks. He lives mere blocks from where his town does the annual Fourth of July show, but he never attends.
Some years, he will go out on the porch to watch them from the safety of The House on the Hill, but most years, he closes all the windows and just ignores the rockets’ red glare and the colorful bombs bursting in air.
He woke up to the stench of burning wood and charred flesh, and he still can’t shake the memory of that morning.
Be smart, Modern Philosophers, and play it safe this Independence Day. Stay the Hell away from fireworks. Feel free to give me the finger if you think I’m out of line, but just remember that your digit is still attached to flip me off because you didn’t allow any fireworks to blow up in your hand!