Since the house we are trying to tame was previously cared for by an eighty-six year old woman, the vegetation is a bit out of control. My husband and boys spent some quality time with a chain saw and, subsequently, we had a pile of twigs, limbs, and brush that was taller than a building. In anticipation of the largest bonfire to ever exist, my boys invited their friends to our house.
I'm not sure if our bonfire was visible from the moon like the lights of Belgium, but I know it was visible from the next county. I know because we got a text from a friend who lives there saying, "Nice fire." Our wordy friend could see it from his deck.
Fire makes boys giddy. They found a release for their energy by riding the go-cart around the yard like drunken clowns.
The sun set, the fire raged, the go-cart raced. Could anything be better? Yes. Because then Drake ran into the house, grabbed his can of Axe deodorant, and threw it into the fire. After about forty-five seconds, we were treated to a glorious explosion.
We stood in awe, transfixed by the sheer power before us. Until the sheer power of the go-cart, under the influence of a teenage boy driving in the dark, almost ran us over.
Then we ran for our lives.
Upon further reflection, I do admit the irony of running for our lives AFTER calmly watching the explosion.
No comments:
Post a Comment