RIP...or not...

Last Saturday I went home for a usual laundry pit stop, I thought I'd clean my car while waiting for my whites, so I used the vacuum in my garage to start vacuuming my car. While vacuuming my car, I couldn't help but notice a mid-sized cardboard box collecting dust next to a tool box. I dropped the vacuum piece and walked toward it as if I could hear the jumangi heart beat... after ripping the top open, this box became so much more valuable, no longer was it an ordinary brown box, it was my youth- wrapped tightly and placed gently into its empty mass. The box was bursting at its seams with firecrackers, bottle rockets, roman candles and piccolo petes. I stopped everything I was doing to phone my neighborhood friend about the hidden stash of Wyoming's finest. Before I could even hang up the phone, Ryan was over at my house. We grabbed the lighter and headed outside to find a clearing to light all of our fireworks, and quickly became disappointed because our culdesac was lined with cars practically bumper to bumper. We journeyed to my back gate ,which led to the church parking lot, and found the perfect opening that was calling us over to light the fireworks on its surface. On our way over we catch my sister sneaking out of this car with her sketchy boyfriend who wouldn't be caught dead in my house, we placed the firework chain behind his mazda, quickly lit the fuse, and ran behind the fence to watch the magic happen.
As we were peaking through the fence laughing, I realized that my sister's boyfriend's car wasn't the only car parked in the church parking lot, I took a quick scan and counted a good 30 cars before the deafening popping began. Time started to slow down, seconds turned into minutes as my mind processed what we actually did. A full parking lot on a Saturday either meant a baptism or a funeral! I glanced over to the three foot chain and realized that there was still hundreds of crackers awaiting their turn to explode. The next hour was filled with mayhem. People started flooding out of the church to silence whatever was happening, from the look on their faced you would have thought they were witnessing a drive by shooting. I wished the exploding could stop because, this Saturday was sister Cole's funeral. With two more feet of firecrackers, a lighter in my hand, and everyone from my Home teachers to my Stake President glaring at me, I wished I could be in that casket.
The night concluded with us saying sorry to many ward members, convincing others not to call the cops, and sweeping the firecrackers residue into a dust pan.
Note to self, the next time I find illegal fireworks in my garage, wait until it is dark to light them, light them in a location besides the backyard of the neighborhood look out, and make sure a funeral isn't going on at the church.