Monday, May 25, 2009

Man, firecrackers!

SOMEWHERE ON 10-W (N.M.) -- I walked into a New Mexico gas station that sold fireworks. And I couldn't help, but think...

"Where's your good stuff, man?"

"You need stuff that'll go BOOM! Are you nuts, dude?! You might as well ask 'Why is a tree good? Why is a sunset good? Why are boobs good?'

"Man, firecrackers! You stick 'em in mailboxes. Drop 'em down toilets. Shove 'em up a bull frog's ass!

"So are you gonna tell me that you don't have no Black Cats, no Roman Candles, or Screamin' Mimi's?

"Oh c'mon, man! You don't got no Lady Fingers, Buzz Buttles, Snicker Bombs, Church Burners, Finger Blasters, Gut Busters, Zippidy Do Das, no Crap Flappers?!

"You're gonna stand there owning a fireworks stand and tell me you don't have not Whistling Bungholes, no Spleen Splitters, Whistler Biscuits, Honky Lighters, Whoseker Do's, Whoseker Don't's, Cherry Bombs, Knipsy Daisers (with or without the scooter stick) or one single Whistling Kitty Chaser?"
-Joe Dirt

It turns out they did have some Black Cats and something called "Pyro Stampede," (below) and of course the "Big Bang" (above).



Leave it to New Mexico to store tons of explosives (literally) in a gas station. Good thing I quit smoking.


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