“Goddamnit, the motherfuckers!” Jerry yelled, as he stumbled across the living room floor. He clinched his fists and then raised a middle finger, pressing it against a frosty window.
“Calm down Jerry,” Caroline replied. “There is nothing you can do about it. Fireworks are legal now. And let me remind you, like I do every year, that when we first started dating, you told me that you used to shoot Roman candles at your friends when you played paintball in the woods and blow up action figures with M80s. You told me that you blew up a jalepeno from the grocery store once before taking a piss and caught your cock on fire. You even said you and your cousin watched an entire season MacGyver and then tried to make homemade fertilizer bombs to blow up in an empty field. Jesus, I’m surprised homeland security never knocked on your door.”
“That’s all different,” Jerry responded. “Times have changed. The kids setting off these damn bottle rockets these days would be happy blowing up houses and actually killing people. They don’t seem to give a fuck about anyone or anything.”
He looked down at his half-empty glass of bourbon.
“What about all of the dogs and cats and the wild animals out in the woods that don’t understand what is happening? I am sure they are terrified and fearing for their lives! What about the babies all over the neighborhood that are starling awake every-time the spark hits the powder? What about the pollution, the fumes and toxic dust they are putting out into the air? What about everyone fueling a war mentality and using the damn things as symbols of patriotism, to assemble people into separate groups?”
“Calm down, Jerry. Don’t be an asshole. You let everything get to you. We can crush up some Xanax in the dog’s food. The girls will be just fine. Let’s just plan to watch the peach drop and then switch over to ‘Dick Clark’s New Years Rockin’ Eve.’ Be ready to kiss me at midnight. You’re drunk and you smell like it, but there’s no one else around.”
Jerry looked exasperated. “You know I hate all of that shit. What’ll it be this year, a performance by Pitbull and Kid Rock? I can’t stomach that shit anymore than I can listen to World War III happening right next door!”
“It doesn’t matter Jerry, we will be asleep by 9pm anyways.”