Monday, July 6, 2015
Newsletter -- Five-Way Fireworks
For most true Americans, the world begins anew every July 4. We're worn down by a demanding world and the evil machinations of the other party and we're about dead. It's only with the first firecracker that we're roused again to the barest signs of life. Then as the kids keep up the racket we gain renewed strength. When the fireworks become increasingly dangerous, with actual injuries in the neighborhood, we're nearly our old selves. Finally, when our leaders blow up $50,000 in tax dollars in a ten-minute orgasm of fire and noise, we're good for another year.
But this year, for me, instead of the usual inspiration, my world came to a sputtering end. For it was when the fireworks lit up the sky that I beheld sexual fireworks on the ground at my feet. Yes, it was a five-way orgy, my entire newsletter staff minus me, in full display, writhing on the ground, all hands and body parts, connecting and detaching, then reconnecting in greater and weirder configurations, as if to match the increasingly complicated bursts in mid-air.
To recap what's going on here. I've been working on a newsletter and took on a staff, made up of four prisoners from the work release program and a woman we call The Lady. I've had one rule since Day One, and that's "Hands off The Lady!" Anyone touches The Lady they answer to me. With my answer promised to be a most violent one, something no one in their right mind would even want to imagine, let alone face and tangle with.
Apparently I made two mistakes, bringing blankets to keep the bugs off us during the fireworks, and offering to get Sno-Cones for everyone. I came back from the glare of the Sno-Cone stand and didn't notice what was taking place in the immediate vicinity of the blankets until explosions lit the sky. At which point my full attention was arrested. Certainly each of the prisoners was at his fullest attention, as well as The Lady. That settled it, the Sno-Cones were now mine!
But what else could I do, with a huge crowd of people pressing in on us? I couldn't very well kill them with so many witnesses. So I kept it low-key, dealing out swift kicks when I could, when the explosions were the greatest. But each prisoner -- Dashing Danny Whfrf, Stan "Tipsy" White, Spud Tuber, and insatiable Cannibal -- was only spurred on by the punishment. Angry kicks excited them further, with The Lady looking up in delight, as if to encourage me to punish them even more.
The whole crew was in a kind of weird orgasmic nature arrangement, moving and trading places like a cloud of birds melting in formation across the sky. I hadn't seen so many moving parts in perfect harmonious motion since I couldn't remember when, probably the church camp I went to in 1966 and the wet T-shirts on the girls after that tremendous rain. Again, it was all on display, right in my face, but this time giving me absolutely no pleasure.
The explosions mounted, and I could tell, by body language and just the innate natural knowledge creatures have, that there was a definite synchronicity between the sky and the connections at my feet. Rockets shot up in splendor and BOOM -- Dashing Danny was out. A torrent of large shots made their ascent and BOOM -- Spud Tuber fell with a thud. Weaving, crazy fire made its zigzag way upward and SPUTTER -- Tipsy White collapsed. A giant Uncle Sam was lit on the levee and as the fire engulfed everything before fizzling down to the burning teeth -- Cannibal was consumed. Of course the blankets were ruined.
Each of the men stood then, as if proudly on display like fluttering Old Glory itself, and the five of us watched The Lady respond to the last crazy shooting-of-the-moon you always get with a big fireworks display. I can only say -- fully ashamed of myself -- that for a few moments I too was transported in my thoughts to realms of glory, as The Lady herself sought the heights. She convulsed with each unpredictable explosion, before collapsing in exhaustion just as the last display on the levee was ignited, Lady Liberty, which flamed forth before quickly flaming out.
We went home quietly and then our separate ways, the prisoners to their quarters in the garage, The Lady to her room in the house, and me to mine. This isn't over! There's more fireworks to come, big time punishment to mete out. Huge...
Posted by dbkundalini at 10:37 AM
Labels: fireworks, Fourth of July, July 4th, newsletter, sex, violence
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment