Remember, remember
Dr Evil gives good Guy Fawkes: 39 kilograms of Category 4 explosives. They were big, they were loud, and they were very, very pretty.
The night was clear and cold, and thunderclaps echoed around the neighbourhood as the sun set and everybody got in on the fireworksy action. The horizon was dotted with sparkly light and the air was heavy with gunpowder and ash. Terribly wasteful and very environmentally unfriendly ... but damn good fun.
We stood on the balcony with our beers and oohed appropriately as Dr Evil put on his show. He had everything – from rockets and roman candles and wee fountain-y type ones set off from the roof to giant sky-fillers that required a trip to the park next door. We watched from the landing as Dr Evil and Rip van Winkle scurried about in the darkness, mostly invisible until the spark of each wick was lit, whereupon we yelled ‘run, you bastards’ as they scampered to safety.
The evening was thankfully incident-free: so long as you don’t count my own very special brand of clumsy. While letting off only the second firework of my life from our homemade rocket launcher (a hollow broom handle), I very stupidly neglected to shut my eyes and my fool mouth. As the rocket shot off, I copped a face and throat full of fuel and fumes. It was undelicious, but apparently my spluttering was very entertaining to behold.
My homemade Guy was a delightful success: the campest little effigy you ever did see. Given that I had been charged with the mission of crafting our Guy at only 7pm the previous evening, the materials at my disposal were what we could find at the local grocery store: some paper plates, drinking straws, sticky tape and a witches hat left over from Halloween. My challenge was to make him flammable, but not toxically so. I’ll post photos when I can, but let me just say that he looked a treat hanging from a wee noose, then burned most excellently atop a fountain firework. When his head fell off, we mounted it upon a rocket and shot it off into the wilds of East London. Good times.
The night was clear and cold, and thunderclaps echoed around the neighbourhood as the sun set and everybody got in on the fireworksy action. The horizon was dotted with sparkly light and the air was heavy with gunpowder and ash. Terribly wasteful and very environmentally unfriendly ... but damn good fun.
We stood on the balcony with our beers and oohed appropriately as Dr Evil put on his show. He had everything – from rockets and roman candles and wee fountain-y type ones set off from the roof to giant sky-fillers that required a trip to the park next door. We watched from the landing as Dr Evil and Rip van Winkle scurried about in the darkness, mostly invisible until the spark of each wick was lit, whereupon we yelled ‘run, you bastards’ as they scampered to safety.
The evening was thankfully incident-free: so long as you don’t count my own very special brand of clumsy. While letting off only the second firework of my life from our homemade rocket launcher (a hollow broom handle), I very stupidly neglected to shut my eyes and my fool mouth. As the rocket shot off, I copped a face and throat full of fuel and fumes. It was undelicious, but apparently my spluttering was very entertaining to behold.
My homemade Guy was a delightful success: the campest little effigy you ever did see. Given that I had been charged with the mission of crafting our Guy at only 7pm the previous evening, the materials at my disposal were what we could find at the local grocery store: some paper plates, drinking straws, sticky tape and a witches hat left over from Halloween. My challenge was to make him flammable, but not toxically so. I’ll post photos when I can, but let me just say that he looked a treat hanging from a wee noose, then burned most excellently atop a fountain firework. When his head fell off, we mounted it upon a rocket and shot it off into the wilds of East London. Good times.
posted by jLo at 11:16 PM
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