Belated Fourth of July Story

I recognize that I am horribly late with this story. However, it is a good story nonetheless.

My good friend Bean has a nice habit of hoarding fireworks on sale on the fifth of July. I'm all for this method of celebration. It promotes the two greatest things about America- capitalism and explosives.

Anyways, on the fifth of July, we're setting off fireworks, which I surprisingly suck at. You'd think with my proud history of blowing things up (usually in video games), I'd be a natural. But no. While everyone of the Beans was able to set off their miniature bombs with what could on be described a smoldering twigs, I had to use a candle lighter. I wouldn't feel bad about it if the others had been struggling. But this felt like using a military-grade flamethrower to start your campfire while all the other Cub Scouts were rubbing sticks together and getting roughly the same effect.

I'll skip over the nuances of the night and get to the main event. The Beans had acquired a series of grenade-like fireworks which could only be fired out of some sort of mortar and had a fuse so long that they were able to wrap it around the firebomb around a dozen times. The first one went off without a hitch. It was a magnificent explosion and proved my fireworking superiority in all fields (except lighting, arguably the least important part of fireworks).

After a few more fireworks, I decided to go with another grenade. After I loaded it into the mortar and lit the fuse, I trotted back a few steps to better appreciate the firebomb in the sky the grenade was destined to become. Unfortunately, this one went off with a hitch.

The first sign that something was subtle. When the standard firework is launched, you see a small ball of light rocket quickly into the heavens. However, this time, an unholy green flame arose from the mortar and lingered.

Now, I am a man of logic. There were several cases where it would be feasible, even advantageous, to have unholy green flames arise from your mortar. For instance, suppose you made a bet that Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, would come to your fireworks show. Well this blaze might just be your ticket to getting $20 from your friends. But I digress.

I decided to hasten my trot away from the firework/potential portal to Hell. At which point, the mortar exploded. In a glorious technicolor blaze, the mortar was no more as sparks and plastic shrapnel were scattered across the field. Of course, I had gotten a safe distance away by that point.

And by a safe distance, I mean only some of the ex-mortar and sparks flew past me.

Suffice to say, I had proven my superiority in fireworks. No one's fireworks were good enough to destroy a mortar and no one else was bold enough to survive point blank annihilation.

To this date, nobody knows what caused the mortar to explode. Some argue it was Hunterian superiority in explosions. Others state I put the firework in upside-down by accident. I let my readers decide.