By the Rockets Red Glare, Bombs Bursting In Air—Trapped In Fireworks Hell
Last night I managed to be a complete dick to two innocent police dispatchers. At about 9 PM, the war began, as the neighborhood was rocked by explosions and illuminated by the fiery flash of the bottle rockets. My dogs were quivering, panting, and crying. I was angry and ready to take my squad, armed to the teeth, to the enemy. The problem was I didn’t have a squad, only my phone and the number to the local police department.
I wasn’t nice. I was an absolute asshole to a young woman named Amy, who was just trying to get enough information to send a car. Sadly, I couldn’t tell her where the enemy was, because I only had a general direction, guided of course by the rockets and the booms. Seconds after hanging up the noise stopped, and the neighborhood was once again peaceful. Well, f%$#! I had just called the police!
Naturally, there were no firework monsters for the police to find, but no matter, we could relax now right? Wrong! Within 15 minutes the war began again, only louder, and with more urgency, so I picked up the phone only to repeat, rather lamely, my earlier request. Within seconds, the fireworks stopped. Again.
This went on, and off, for the next two hours and I was homicidal, taking my rage out on not one but two dispatchers, since I live right on the line of two cities. It appeared the fireworks were exploding right on that line so I had to call the neighboring police department as well, making a complete idiot of myself again, screeching about the police never being around when you need them. Sigh.
Needless to say, I was exhausted, as were my poor pet pals. It’s the time of year when fireworks hell is inevitable, and the scofflaws are lighting their matches in force, hell-bent on terrifying the neighborhood. Naturally, I’m convinced they are all salivating, red-hatted Trump supporters. Now I need to figure out how to apologize to two very patient police dispatchers. So, how was your evening?
Back in the day fireworks, in Blighty, were only on or around November 5th with, perhaps, the odd one on New Years Eve.
More to the point, they were nowhere near as loud as today’s fireworks.
If the authorities would restrict the loudness it would help….a bit.
Mike, you are a vet. Go get registered at your nearest VA hospital and tell them your are having massive panic attacks, can’t sleep, and going nuts, or any of those combinations. You will need to go back about every six months so they know your are still sane and tell them how well they are working. The big plus is that with their script they will mail you meds to you once a month. So you don’t need them all the time. So save them. Two blue pills and a bit of JW and you will sleep. 1/4 one crushed into a powder on the doggie’s tongue and they will sleep like babies.
They’re great fun.
I must start proofreading. 🙁
I love fireworks. There great fun.
Yeah, I know, it ain’t PC. But PC ain’t no fun either. Regardless the political camp that spawned in.
I hate fireworks and they should be permanently banned. Except sparklers. They’re ok.
I had to go pick up the annual Xanax med for my dogs and cats yesterday, so they don’t go all weird on me. Also too, I heard there is some kind of civil war that will be brought about by libtards tomorrow, from Alex Jones, and I am figuring out what to wear to it. I’m joining the rest of you dirty demorats after I get gay married in the morning and have my pre planned abortion early afternoon, being the good libtard snowflake I am. Priorities people, it’s good to have them 🙂
You need a script for that don’t you? That’s a good idea, and one I will pursue vigorously before the horror of the next two nights.
Yeah you do.
Now I have to try and get my vet to prescribe it, which he would, if I manage to get through his firewalls, meaning staff like “Oh, you need an appointment, blah, blah, blah.” No way I could get if filled through Cleveland Clinic. I’m going to try anyway and will spend the rest of the day wondering why the fuck I didn’t think of it. Perhaps I’m losing it…
Either that or call your own doctor and tell them you need something to calm your nerves for a day or so. Just half the pill they give you and voila, no animals frightened when fireworks go off.
I’ll try that, but I won’t be able to get through the Cleveland Clinic firewalls either. No way will they prescribe it without an appointment. I can’t believe I put a Brexit comment on my own post. I’m losin’ it I tells ya 🙂