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THE VT » Blog Archive » The Chronicles of My Life, Part 1: Fireworks are BAD

The Chronicles of My Life, Part 1: Fireworks are BAD


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Over the course of my life, I have experienced some of the funniest and most outlandish shit you can possibly put your mind to. Growing up in Bayside, Queens, I’ve lived amongst a handful of characters. These are the stories of my childhood, the people I grew up with and the town which has bred me.

My friends and I were typically very bad children. One time when I was ten years old, me and a couple of my friends had some how gotten access to an arsenal of mortars and other numerous fireworks. This was my first experience with fireworks, and it felt so good knowing how much illegal contraband we had, and how much shit I could blow up. We took them to a nearby park a couple blocks away from my house, which is huge and full of trees and woods. Knowing we’d get our cache taken away from us if anyone saw three little kids with the amount of shit we had, we walked into the woods. We set up the tube and loaded our first mortar…it shot into the sky and immediately all the trees caught fire. We ran back to my block and looked as four or five fire trucks came rushing into the park to extinguish the fire before the whole park engulfed. That was the last time I touched fireworks for a while.


Fast-forward six years later, it’s the 4th of July and little does anyone know the Fireworks War of Bayside is about to occur. Before I get to that, it’s important I introduce one of my best friends, Anthony. He’s an important character in most of the outrageous stories of my life, because he was either always there, or always the one who started the havoc. People fear this kid’s name, just because everyone in the entire neighborhood knows how crazy is. He stays up for days straight drinking and sniffing, starts fights all the time, and used to steal cars and various other things. He once did time for running out of Macy’s with thousands of dollars worth of stolen clothes, and hopping into a stolen car to get away which he later flipped. This is probably why I love him so much….he brings such comedy and life to every party and everywhere I go. A couple of months before the 4th of July, my friend Anthony had a shit load of mortars, m80’s and other rockets. He shot a mortar at my friend Terry in front of someone’s house, which theoretically would have taken his head off. My friend Terry matrix-dodges it and the mortar flies directly thru someone’s window and into their living room. A display of colors and sparks are seen outside the house and they run, only to come back to the scene five minutes later with police, ambulances and fire trucks everywhere. No one was injured, but I could imagine who ever lived in that house thought World War III was finally here.

Now, taking it back to the 4th of July… I and about sixty or seventy people are hanging out at the nearby marina, celebrating our country’s independence. The marina is basically a dock, with a parking lot and a bridge over the Cross Island Parkway, which leads to the park that I almost burnt down in my last story. The cops don’t really bother us there which is probably why it became our playground of destruction. My friend Anthony not knowing the carnage he was amount to start, picks up a roman candle and shoots it at my friend Terry, once again. They start shooting each other back and forth and random people start getting hit and grazed. Everyone jumps into the battle and it literally becomes a war zone. My friend Anthony picks up a cake box, which is a box with like six holes where fireworks shoot out of. He puts it on his shoulders as if he was a soldier in the army holding an RPG. He starts firing at entire crowds disregarding the immense amount of sparks which are shooting right in his face from all the rockets firing, a straight savage. Everyone in one crowd splits, and I remember seeing this girl just standing there on top of the bridge all by herself. The next minute, I see a rocket flying right towards her, and then a shower of sparks. The girl had been hit…I immediately said “Holy Shit!” The girl arose from the sparks and smoke and walked away crying and screaming but some how alive and uninjured. To this day I still don’t understand how she just walked away unharmed.

We continued our war and split up into two teams. One team went on the bridge and stayed there. They mostly consisted of people who grew up at the other park in my neighborhood. The other team, which consisted of my friends from the park that I grew up hanging out at, stayed in the parking lot below the bridge and used that as our point of war. Everyone had an armory in their trunks, so the sheer amounts of fireworks were unbelievable. We started shooting at the people on the bridge and there were rockets and mortars flying everywhere. Anywhere you went, you were not safe. The only way to not get hit was to leave…there was nowhere to hide. I’ve never seen anything like this before…there was this guy from London who was filming it screaming he couldn’t wait to show his friends how New Yorkers celebrate. We were firing entire Grand Finale’s at the other team, drunk as fuck and having the time of our lives. The bridge over the highway had showers of sparks pouring down on each and every car that drove by.

Suddenly, the cops arrive and pull up directly to me and my cousin out of all the people there. They tell us to walk away since we have nothing in our hands, and go up to everyone else who was still lighting fireworks. Everyone starts running and we see my black ass friend Terry who probably had a few sacks of coke in his pocket, hiding in a fucking tree literally looking like a monkey. We start to leave the marina, knowing that this was the end of our fun and the rest of the night was going to consist of boring ass fireworks shows and burning people with sparklers. Literally, the cops always ruin everything, dangerous or not. The next minute we hear, BOOM! We turn around and see a police cruiser looking like it just blew up. Long story short, while the police were searching everyone, my friend who will rename nameless, ran over to the cruiser, lit a pineapple underneath the car and booked it as fast as he could. We cheered as we later saw the NYPD towing their disabled cruiser up Bell Boulevard. We knew we had won that night, and as the police rolled by us and warned us tomorrow is just another day, and that we should really be careful because of how “pissed off” they were; that battle will remain in my heart forever. By the end of the night I left with just a graze on my leg, and some how nobody was seriously injured. As far as I know, my friends only had minor burns, scratches, and torn up clothes. This was the one time I could honestly say we defeated the police.

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3 Responses to “The Chronicles of My Life, Part 1: Fireworks are BAD”

  1. Renaults Says:

    Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/klic/public_html/vt/wp-includes/formatting.php on line 82

    WTF?

  2. fewr Says:

    Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/klic/public_html/vt/wp-includes/formatting.php on line 82

    Wow, those stories are pretty impressive. Is this rancor?

  3. atomicchronic7 Says:

    Deprecated: preg_replace(): The /e modifier is deprecated, use preg_replace_callback instead in /home/klic/public_html/vt/wp-includes/formatting.php on line 82

    no its me and i don’t know why nobody added my name on it

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