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July 4, 2005

Volume 3, Issue 4

This turned up in a GIS for "4th of July"...

(click for larger)

Everyone have a safe and happy 4th!

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Comments

“You will march in the parade Saturday. I told Sarah you would,” she said bluntly.

“No, I have to work.” The pain in my knees starts.

“No you don’t. You have to be in the parade. You have the pants.”

“They have holes in them and they are filthy dirty.” I HATE these conversations with her.

“Quit lying. You know what happens when you lie.”

I groaned because the pain in my thighs is excruciating; the pain in my shins takes my breath away. I look down and my legs are 7 feet long. OWWWWW!

“OK. Where are the pants?”

Posted by: Terry at July 4, 2005 6:35 AM · Permalink

I am so tempted to post my "long enough to read the ground" story.

Posted by: Laurence Simon at July 4, 2005 6:57 AM · Permalink

Everytime he saw the picture, the tears welled up in his eyes. The people in it were so innocent so happy. Little did they know....

Just moments after the picture was taken, a dog ran out into the street and tripped the man on stilts. He fell to the ground, and fractured his skull. The driver of the golf cart behind him wasn't paying attention and plowed into him. The following golf carts swerved into the crowd to avoid the accident.

Ten years later, the city is still scarred. At least they never found out that I owned the dog.

Posted by: Gahrie at July 4, 2005 8:41 AM · Permalink

The photo that caught John’s attention was just one of thousands in a display titled “Memorabilia From Main Street”.

The captured moment conjured memories. Hot, humid summer days. Delicious, warm watermelon juice trickling down the chin, spitting seeds at his brother and getting seeds spat in return. Summer swims; usually at the city pool, eyes stinging with chlorine, sometimes at the pond with Peggy, eyes round with wonder.

Memory after memory returned, each as delicate and untouchable as childhood innocence.

John wiped misty eyes and sighed. He noticed the display’s dedication: Brought to you from the good folks at Wal-Mart.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 4, 2005 9:53 AM · Permalink

Sorry. I just couldn't let Laurence have the only moonbat story today.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 4, 2005 9:59 AM · Permalink

Every summer, Lenny returns home for the Independence Day parade. The weekly paper writes a special edition for the occasion, calling Lenny the town’s ‘Favorite Son’ and noting ‘Local Boy Makes It Big’. Such clever word-play.

He does it each year to rub it in the faces of the hicks who stayed behind. These were the same guys who teased him in school, calling him a freak of nature and worse.

Lenny always leads the parade, walking ahead of the local dignitaries, enjoying the cheers of the hometown fans. Next week, he returns to the New Jersey Nets training camp.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 4, 2005 10:21 AM · Permalink

What the hell?! Bill thought. Things were going so well. Earlier, just before the parade was about to start, everyone was having a grand old time. Kids chased each other with sparklers while the adults talked of Independence Days long past. Bill and some of the other folks from the parade had had a quick meal of hot dogs and lemonade. It was a picture-perfect Fourth of July celebration.

And then, as he climbed up onto his stilts, he just had to make that seemingly innocent joke about the Shriners and their little cars..

They’ve been chasing him every since.

Posted by: No One of Consequence at July 4, 2005 5:33 PM · Permalink

They had told him it was an honor, the highest honor the town could give, to be the grand marshall of the Fourth of July parade. So he agreed.

He had envisioned riding down the street in the back of a big old Cadillac convertible. Red. Next to him would be the local beauty queen, young and fresh-faced. With freckles, he hoped.

But he was in a golf cart, and next to him was the mayor’s wife. Old. Dumpy.

“I’m glad they let me drive,” he thought, as he aimed the cart at the guy on stilts and gunned it.

Posted by: david at July 4, 2005 9:36 PM · Permalink