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My Independence Day

6 Jul

Burn in hell, rest of the world, because Saturday I celebrated the birthday of my favorite country– the United States of America!

Every year, my family gets together to celebrate this hallowed day. Like most families, we have long-standing, deeply-rooted traditions. We have games, sing-a-longs, staring contests (We don’t count these as games–because they aren’t.), and a few special family foods. My dad makes his original, one of a kind meat sandwich that he named “Hamburgers.” He’ll also throw in a couple of these weird little things he named “Hot dogs.” On top of all that, he’ll go really crazy and treat us to his world-famous “Whiskey out of a water jug.” Oh, dad.

I got up extra early on the Fourth. I had a lot to do, so I had to get an early start. I set my alarm for 11am. I was greeted by a beautiful sunny day.

“Hello, sunny day!” I said.

“Harmful U-V rays,” the sunny day responded quietly.

I ran through my to do list:


I put on my clothes: red shorts, blue polo shirt, white socks, brown leather Birkenstocks. I then opened my closet door and dusted off an old box that’s labeled “Let’s party.” Inside the box rested a large, (comically-large, in fact) red white and blue, stars and stripes top hat. This is the hat that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

There you go, friend.

There ya go, friend.

I then drove out to my aunt Tammy’s for a Fourth of July lunch. I brought my woman, Katie. She wouldn’t wear what I’d picked out for her. She also wouldn’t let me introduce her as my “girlfriend” until I took my hat off. She’s also a communist.

It was a delightful time. We all laughed, ate, and performed one of America’s oldest traditions, the breaking of the piñata. My mom only drank enough to throw up once. My Independence Day was really shaping up well thus far. There was a really big dog at my aunt’s house that scared Katie. It was probably because the dog believed in capitalism and every man’s right to make his own way without government interference. It could’ve also been its enormous size and overly aggressive behavior towards women. This is also why she was afraid of my brother.

After this I took the ol’ ball ‘n chain on a tour of all Waxahachie has to offer.

We returned home six minutes later.

“Let’s CELEBRATE!” I say as I kick the door open. The house is completely empty.

A few minutes later, my family came in with some groceries. I said hello to my mother and father and they simply rolled their eyes and made comments under their breath, of which I could only make out a few words, like “leech,” “writer,” and “adopted.”

After we got all the food into the house, we went out to buy our fireworks. The place we usually go to is a renovated  warehouse with the words “ALAMO! FIREWORKS!” painted on the front. We parked and walked inside. Immediately we were greeted by a bunch of almost dead (old) people who gave us a shopping cart. I thanked them all and, before I walked away, looked to each of them and said “I wish you all good luck on your final voyage into that dark night.” They start to say something back to me, but I had zoned out at the words “Dark night,” only able to think about The Dark Knight.

[Editor’s note: Kyle worked for roughly twenty or so minutes on trying to write more Dark Knight jokes. Just to give a little insight as to why they’re not included here, they involved a dream sequence and the word ‘colostomy bag.’]

We picked out a pretty large variety of fireworks: mortar cannons, firecrackers, mortar cannons, sparklers, and mortar cannons. I think there was a Roman candle mixed somewhere in there, but I refused to use it because Romans were the ones who killed my Lord.

“Ready to check out?” The kind woman behind the counter said.

“Yes.” I said. I gave her the correct amount of money.

[Editor’s note: I begged Kyle to let me take this dialogue out, trying to impress on him that the reader could just assume that he paid for the fireworks upon leaving. He disagreed, stating that he didn’t want to leave room for anybody to think he stole the fireworks in case he “ever ran for office.”]

When we got home, some of the guests had already arrived.

“Hooray! I screamed.” I screamed. I had gotten into the habit of narrating my own actions. Julian, Box, and Derek were there. They were lighting bottle rockets in my back yard. That’s trespassing.

“Hey guys!” I said. They returned the salutation.”Who’s ready to get FUCKED UP for liberty?!” I say as I pulled two bottles of whiskey from the bag in my arms. I dropped one. I looked at them making a “OH YEA!” face, holding one bottle, trying to ignore the searing pain in my foot from all the glass/alcohol.

“Not me man, I have to go to work tomorrow.” Box said.

“Yea, dude. I’m really tired.” Julian responded.

“Oh…” I said. I’m heart broken.

“Hey man, I’ll get fucked up with you! U.S.A.!” Derek yelled, ecstatic.

“No, Derek, we’re not doing that anymore.” I said and walk inside.

The rest of the party trickled in and we had a really great time. As a general rule, I only listen to Bruce Springsteen on the Fourth. We hang out in the pool and listen to (Bruce Springsteen) music. By this time, it’s me, Katie, my sister, her fiance, Lanny, Angela (Lansbury), Josh (Groban), Julian, Derek, special guest-blogger Kevin “Box” Spaccavento, my brother, and his girlfriend Nikki (Sixx).

We then shot off some fireworks. This year was a particular success– nobody died.

I didn’t fall asleep on the picnic table, but I still consider this one of the best Fourth’s I’ve ever had. God bless you all and God bless America.

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