Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share Gun Shots Celebration
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
Gun Shots Celebration
Written By: Johnny Roque
Family time means a lot of things to different people, but the one thing that helps keeps families together usually revolves around fun, even with guns.
This episode is also available as a blog post: https://smirkfiction.wordpress.com/2022/01/06/gun-shots-celebration/
Families gather around to watch the magnificent display of lights in the sky to symbolize a yearly tradition of an independence that brought more slavery and slaughter to this land than at any other time in its history. The potato salad helps numb that terrible history. Picnics during the day time smother parks in a haze of bar-b-q that covers even in thickest pine trees in a smell of charcoal. Never the less, once night falls upon the frantic children, fathers hold the hands of their wives to watch a display of blooming flowers in the sky that show up in every color possible. This sits the kids down on their grass stained jeans to look up in amazement providing the miracle of a little peace and quit to every parent under the sky's magnificent glow. I look forward to this moment every year, but this year, that moment slips away due to bills that cost more than the holy amount of fancy gunpowder.
My family understand the situation. They see the tired look in my eyes that our woes forces each eyelid to stay open. We ate potato salad still, just not at a park and not during the day, at night after my double that I gleefully volunteered to take ended. Every single smile at that table said "good job". I told everyone that the fireworks might still make an appearance. My wife shot a look of confusion at me, she knew the house better than anyone and knew that not even a sparkler hid in any of its cracks. I smiled at her, then I looked at the kids. I told everyone to meet me outside.
Standing outside they all shared excited giggles. Even my wife wanted to know the surprise. I brought out my handgun and shouted, "I have all the fireworks we need right here." Then I let off a single round. My wife grabbed the kids and dropped to the ground. I felt her anger rising like a volcano. Then the giggles roared out of the kids. Those giggles settled the volcano. One at a time, we took turns firing rounds into the sky at an angle. Fancy gunpowder might cost too much this year, but plain old regular gun powder still made the celebration possible. Like my grandpa told me the first time he taught me to shoot to keep me calm, "gun shots are just fireworks without the lights."
View all episodes
By Johnny RoqueWritten By: Johnny Roque
Family time means a lot of things to different people, but the one thing that helps keeps families together usually revolves around fun, even with guns.
This episode is also available as a blog post: https://smirkfiction.wordpress.com/2022/01/06/gun-shots-celebration/
Families gather around to watch the magnificent display of lights in the sky to symbolize a yearly tradition of an independence that brought more slavery and slaughter to this land than at any other time in its history. The potato salad helps numb that terrible history. Picnics during the day time smother parks in a haze of bar-b-q that covers even in thickest pine trees in a smell of charcoal. Never the less, once night falls upon the frantic children, fathers hold the hands of their wives to watch a display of blooming flowers in the sky that show up in every color possible. This sits the kids down on their grass stained jeans to look up in amazement providing the miracle of a little peace and quit to every parent under the sky's magnificent glow. I look forward to this moment every year, but this year, that moment slips away due to bills that cost more than the holy amount of fancy gunpowder.
My family understand the situation. They see the tired look in my eyes that our woes forces each eyelid to stay open. We ate potato salad still, just not at a park and not during the day, at night after my double that I gleefully volunteered to take ended. Every single smile at that table said "good job". I told everyone that the fireworks might still make an appearance. My wife shot a look of confusion at me, she knew the house better than anyone and knew that not even a sparkler hid in any of its cracks. I smiled at her, then I looked at the kids. I told everyone to meet me outside.
Standing outside they all shared excited giggles. Even my wife wanted to know the surprise. I brought out my handgun and shouted, "I have all the fireworks we need right here." Then I let off a single round. My wife grabbed the kids and dropped to the ground. I felt her anger rising like a volcano. Then the giggles roared out of the kids. Those giggles settled the volcano. One at a time, we took turns firing rounds into the sky at an angle. Fancy gunpowder might cost too much this year, but plain old regular gun powder still made the celebration possible. Like my grandpa told me the first time he taught me to shoot to keep me calm, "gun shots are just fireworks without the lights."