The following is a story my hometown buddy Alex [Soprano]
posted on "Mike's Forum". I was gonna totally rewrite it according to my own recollection of the event,
but- since Alex did such a good job of making me shit myself laughing- I think it could only be funnier if I stuck
with my usual thing of merely inserting commentary.
As such, let's take a trip back to yesteryear...
(Note: Alex's post has been edited for minor points of
punctuation, humorous antidotes, and sentence structure.)
I'm not sure how many people participate in things like this,
but- in Greenville Mississippi, back in the mid 80's- my friends and I had battles with live fireworks. I'm not talking
about the "oooooh, that's a bright sparkler" kind of fireworks, but eye-piercing bottle rockets, flesh searing roman
candles, and- if you were brave enough- the Japanese M-80 grenades that could literally KILL your opponents, (or friends,
as we once considered ourselves).
We still do consider ourselves friends, Alex.
That is if you can get over the fact that I RUINED YOUR SHIT with paper and gunpowder.
One otherwise pedestrian Fourth of July, I remember a firecracker
war in the old neighborhood. It was myself and Eric (Mike's brother), against Mike and a guy named Stacy Smith.
The rules were thus: each team grabbed as many fireworks as they could hold, ran off in opposite directions, and then lit
various ordinances with the intent of bombarding the other team until someone backed down.
Bitch, you shoulda KNOWN I wasn't gonna back down! I'm
the KING of fireworks!!! This past New Year's Eve, I sat on my front porch and fired roman candles at the neighborhood
kids. They were all, "Hey mister, aren't you supposed to hold that up so that we can see the-"
* ssssssss.... fwump! ... POW!!! *
"AHHH!!! MY EYE!!! IT BURNS!!! MOMMY!!!
THE BAD MAN SHOT ME!!! I CAN'T SEE!!! I CAN'T SEE!!!"
Hey, fuck the little shits if they weren't ready. This
is MY street!
This long distance melee would go on until one team would
run out of fireworks. Unfortunately, on this particular night, it was me and Eric who ran out.
That's what ya'll get for poor generalship!
Unlike Eric, I LISTENED to our dad's stories about Vietnam.
Now, the battles took place all over the neighborhood, so
once we realized we were outgunned, we took off; ducking through yards, hopping over fences, etc.
Yeah, you BETTER run!!! God damn gooks...
Realizing we were in trouble, Eric and I split at one point,
he going left, me going right. Eric escaped, (Yeah, 'cause he's a ninja, like me!),
but I happened to pick a yard which had a lovely clothesline strewn across it, (No, really, a literal clothesline. This
was Mississippi), and, since it was dark, I hit it full speed at neck level.
What Alex doesn't know, is that I personally
orchestrated not only his retreat route, but also the taunt wire clothesline I KNEW he would encounter as he fled. My
intention was to decapitate him, (because I play to win), but he wasn't yet the athlete he became in high school, so his running
velocity wasn't sufficient to shear his head off. You got lucky on that one, Alex...... pussy!
Needless to say, I went to the ground immediately, in anguish.
Like I said....... pussy!
Luckily, Mike was the one pursuing me with a roman candle,
and he rightly showed mercy as soon as he saw me down.
What?!? I would never do that!
Wait, my bad... we're talking about Mike here.
So he comes around the corner, sees me on the ground, and instead of asking if I was okay, he stops, laughs, and proceeds
to pelt me with every magnesium flare left in his roman candle... WHILE I'M A HUDDLED MASS ON THE GROUND!!!
Yeah, that's what I thought!
As the ignited metal seared my flesh, I started screaming,
"STOP!!! PLEASE GOD, DON'T YOU HAVE A SOUL?!?"
Uh, no...
But, funny enough, I was laughing at the same time, because
I understood his mentality.
Translation: Alex rightly guessed that I was trying to kill
him, and that's always funny.
Finally, the roman candle burned out, and Mike came up to
me, placed an unlit one to my throat and said, "SUBMIT!"
Actually, if memory serves, I said, "Alex? Alex,
is that you? I can't see through all the burnt flesh.", then bursting into laughter before asking if he had
a light, (my own lighter had burned out, so I had nothing to ignite the second roman candle I needed to finish him off).
It was then that I realized the firecracker wars were
over for the night, and that my team had lost.
Damn right you lost! And the only reason your "teammate"
didn't suffer a similar beatdown, is because Stacy knew Eric was my brother, and Stacy would've suffered a far worse fate
had he pressed for ultimate victory.
(To clarify, Eric was and is the kind of guy that would play
dead once you got close, just so he could ignite and M-80 and shove it down the front of your pants.)
We then went back to Mike and Eric's house for some C-rations,
(which means, Ravioli in a can), and laughed about the entire battle.
BULLSHIT!!! You and Stacy weren't laughing!
You were crying for me and Eric to call your parents to come and pick you up...... poser!
This was but one of my many, many exploits with Mike, yet,
it just so happens to lead into the story of us crawling through the sewers of Greenville one night.
But that, is for another day...
For the stupid folks, Alex is indeed one of my best friends
from childhood, so any perceived degradation in the above exchange is purely humorous. I've lived through some pretty
crazy shit, but Alex has lived THE DREAM, going so far as to abandon college in lieu of being a bartender in the Caribbean
for several years.
This guy has seen shit that I can only fantasize about, and
it is my sincerest hope that he will lend more of his debaucheries so that I can post them here in the future.
Alex, thanks for writing in. You truly are "the man",
and I would back you up without a moment's hesitation should the need ever arise...
