Pow! Eek! Splap.

Went to see the fireworks Tuesday evening with my wife. We walked several blocks to the park in town, and when we got to the right area, the spare bits of lawn and sittable ground were pretty well filled up already. After a few minutes we found a convenient tree to sit under, which was handy because we didn’t have chairs and it gave us something to sit up against.

The fireworks started out with a big spray of gold shooting up from the ground. Herself thought it was a misfire, but judging from later parts of the show, I think that’s a new type of firework — basically the Bellaggio fountain done in light….

Then the rockets started going. Some of these were arching so far up that they were basically going off right over our heads. It was only a few moments in when the first of the “boomers” went off — you know, the ones that make such a loud bang that you can practically feel the shockwave hit you? One. Another. Again.

Something hit my shoulder.

I saw the… whatever it was out of the corner of my eye an instant before it struck my shoulder and bounced away. What they heck? Are bits of spent firework raining down on me? There was a small dark mark on my brand new shirt — I reached up to see if it was hot, or if it was recognizably soot or something.

My hand came back wet. What the hell?

The sky had been threatening rain for an hour or so, so wetness didn’t seem too bizarre, except in the conjunction with something falling on me. I looked a little closer. There was a small (maybe a centimeter in diameter) brown spot on the shoulder of my shirt. I still haven’t positively identified it (I’ll have to send it to my buddies in the CSI lab…) but I have a working theory:

…I think the “boomers”, literally, scared the shit out of some squirrel.

Brand new shirt, too. Damnit.

Comments are invited and encouraged

Anti-Spam Quiz: