I once had a blackcat blow the tip of my finger to a numbness that lasted three weeks. Oh sure I probably should have had it looked at by a doctor, but I was not about to tell my parents of the accident that came about on that 4th of July weekend. You see I was already in trouble for smoking cigarettes at school the previous semester.
Although I talked myself into believing I was being valiant by not putting my parents through another episode of "what the hell did the boy do to himself this time?" the truth is it scared me. To not feel ones finger for a good three quarters of a month is simply a terrifying prospect to a teenager. At first the skin turned a grayish white and although it never bled it had in three days turned a dark coffee color. In short I was sure it was going to have to come off. Visions of living my life as a shopteacher were in full technicolor dreams at night.
My friends encouraged me to work through this tragedy in the usual fashion, "Geezus, it was only a blackcat!" and "You fu*%ing wuss" were the soft words that comforted me in my time of need. I was never sure if they were saying that in order to keep me from outing them in what would be a tearful confession of teenage delinquency at the emergency room, or if it was true that "nobody ever got their finger blown off by a blackcat."
This memory came to me last night while visiting a friend on the other side of town, 3rd ward I believe, we were amazed at the relative silence.
As far as I can see there has been no fireworks in my small neighborhood this year. Generally I have heard the loud report of firecrackers beginning in mid June. I don't really mind not being woken up in the middle of the night to an audio history of the fall of Saigon, but I am curious.
What could possibly be the reason for such a quiet 4th of July weekend?
Has anybody else noticed this?
Update: 07/05/06
Last night was loud as hell!
Congratulations, United States of America!
You kept me awake till 1 am!
I hope you are proud!
I know I am. ;)
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