Victoria Day Mishap
On Monday families celebrated Victoria Day by heading down to the water to watch the fireworks display while teenagers and older immature punkasses lit firecrackers in their neighbours mailboxes and chucked smoke bombs in doggy doors.
The sad part about the Victoria Day holiday is that most people don't know why we celebrate Queen Victoria's birthday, including me. All I know is that she died just over a hundred years ago, after a very lengthy period on the throne.
Anyhoo, following in the tradition of fireworks, before bed, I decided to light off a single firecracker. I set the Red Devil M-1000 in the middle of the road and lit the awesomely thick fuse – the kind you might find on a stick of dynamite. I walked back onto my lawn, with Suz nearby.
The M-1000 expoded with a joyous bang that echoed throughout the neighourhood. "Yay!" I thought. But before I could finish that thought, I was smacked in the face with this puppy. A greyish-white, delicious-smelling hunk of smoldering firecracker.
After checking for blood, I ran inside to grab my tape-measure. I checked the distance from ground zero to the spot where I stood. The innards of the M-1000 flew 22 feet, and would have flown a lot farther had my face not interferred.
Yes, it's an exciting way to celebrate the birthday of Queen Victoria. But what if I was born 125 years ago? What if I lit off that firecracker on the Queen's front porch? Would she clap her hands in appreciation of the event? Or would she give me a ripe slap across the face?