E.T., the Explosive Terrestrial, is ready to be lit. A giant homemade multi-staged firework hardly ever works exactly the way you plan it since flaming spinning devices built by uneducated Taiwanese runaways and sold by hillbillies can be unpredictable. If all goes according to plan, though; here's how this elaborate and fantastic device should explode:
1. The Bat Plane will approach the main board and shower the corner with sparks. Then it will self destruct for totally no reason.
2. Either Batman's spark guns or senseless suicide will set off the fireworks in Location 2, but most importantly the small box I filled with Crackling Powder at location 3.
3. When the Crackling Powder box goes off, it will crack open the top layer of the Earth and also start the fountain directly above it, with a vengeance. The fountain is glued down at an angle that should spray both the Power Puff Girls cereal box bomb and intergalactic whiny fruitloop Luke Skywalker. In addition, I drilled a hole in the side of the fountain to make sure that a healthy barrage of sparks hits the fuses of the dynamite vest that E.T. is wearing.
4. If there's one thing I know about Luke Skywalker, it's to expect the unexpected, so I fully expect a group of pineapples to come to life and throw water balloons at me from a bobsled at this point of the firework.
5. The Power Puff Girl bomb will be a towering inferno spitting twirling fireworks and death in every direction. Any other firework in a quarter mile radius that doesn't get ignited by its mushroom cloud of horror will have more than earned its freedom. I plan on being dead well before this point of the plan, so there's no point in further speculation. I'm just going to light it and run. Since this may be the last thing I ever write, "The Only Thing Constant is Change Itself," "When you Risk Nothing, You Risk Everything Which is Also Worth a Thousand Words," and "Please Do Not Have an Evil Robot Secretly Take My Place After I'm Dead."
What actually ended up happening: For unknown reasons, maybe sabotage, Batman went crazy. Instead of rolling up and lighting the corner, he laid on the gas and jumped his Bat Plane directly onto the panda in the center. The elaborate pathway of multi-staged excitement I built was useless or worse. Batman's crazy ass lit every single firework on the board simultaneously. The only part of the plan that he did do right is where he was supposed to self destruct. Have you ever seen what an exploding Bat Plane does to a cardboard panda? I haven't either, because it was happening in the center of a blinding nuclear blast and I was busy putting my head into my own lap and screaming.
I forgot to take pictures of E.T., the Explosive Terrestrial, for a few minutes because it seemed more important to hide from flying debris and as always, the alien-controlled government. But when I stuck my head out three minutes into it (right), random things were still going off. Since everything went off in the first two seconds, I can only assume that these were fireworks from another dimension that somehow came here after the first ones ripped open a hole in the spacetime continuum.
Five minutes later, there was nothing left to explode. In fact, the only thing left was a thin layer of charred cardboard and melted plastic, which if I'm not mistaken, is not flammable. Here's one explanation for how it was still burning: the power of my mind.
Four minutes later, when the fire showed no signs of slowing down, my mind powers were the only explanation that made any sense. Something inside me, and possibly E.T. said that the flames of liberty had to keep burning.
On to Part Four: The Aftermath
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