Cool kids drove cool cars, were hip, said cool things.
For introverted, socially awkward kids, like myself, it never happened.
Instead, I listened to drive ya’ crazy, AM DJ’s; hung out with other oddballs, misfits that refused to conform.
From the other side of fascination with things that blew up. It’s not funny or amusing anymore.
My dog, Max, after last night’s episode of fireworks, has the same look in his eyes as those poor dogs in the ASPCA commercials.
Tranquilizers, used for the first time, calmed him somewhat, but didn’t knock him out, to the point, that he slept through the noise. Instead, he wandered with dilated pupils, never lying down, until after it was all over, sometime around eleven.
Today, he was hung over. He was afraid to walk on the tile floor. After eighteen hours, all is back to normal. No more tranquilizers–just the thunder jacket. Fireworks are legal here. There is still the grand finale, tonight, to go through.