Shots fired!

No. There were no shots fired. I’m sorry to scare you like that. Go change your underpants. It’s just that for reasons I can’t quite fathom, fireworks seem to be all the rage again in Lewiston. In all corners of the city people are firing off Big Jimmies, Little Louies, Poodle Rockets, Banana Hammocks, Barking Spiders and Small Sad Sams at all hours of the day and night. The result is that people call police to report shots fired and then occasionally-hardworking-reporters such as myself have to race out and check things out. That’s fun and all, but I just don’t understand why after a long period of quiet since the Fourth of July, seemingly hundreds of people have begun blasting off again as if on cue. It’s like hearing the rumblings of a large raucous party to which I haven’t been invited. Which also happens with depressing regularity.

Small Sad Who, Now?

By the way, recognize any of those fireworks names? No you don’t! I made them all up! Suckers. The only exception is “Small Sad Sam,” which is actually the name of a 1961 Phil McLean song meant as a parody of the older hit “Big John.” But I’m just thinking aloud, now.

Fire!

Sorry once more. There’s no fire. It’s just another false alarm at Bates College. I’m not saying it happens a lot, but I know one Lewiston firefighter who was sent scrambling to so many alarms at Bates, he was able to earn a bachelor’s degree.

Cold Ethel

Some woman saw me dismount my Suzuki the other day (which sounds dirty but isn’t) and somewhat rolled her eyes at me. “Time to put that toy away, isn’t it?” she said all hoity toity like. “It’s almost October for heaven’s sake.” Boy, she’s going to be real surprised when I go ripping through her front yard on Christmas morning.

After Hours

I wandered down to the After Hours Smoke Shop on Lisbon Street in Lewiston at about 8:30 p.m. the other night and was dismayed – nay appalled! – to find that the shop was closed. I don’t know what “after hours” means in today’s parlance, but back in my day, it implied a time of day significantly later than 8 p.m. It was heartbreaking, really. Sort of like that time I went to that “cat house” only to learn that it was a pet store. But I’ve probably said too much.

Frostbite sunburn

Are ya like me? Does the weather this time of year cause you utter confusion about what to wear on those unfortunate occasions when you have to leave the house? On Tuesday, I went out in my favorite lime green Hawaiian shirt and a knee-length skort only to discover that it was freezing cold and practically snowing. A day later, I tossed on a Carhartt winter coat and some long johns (I don’t have a thermal skort yet) and passed out at the end of my driveway because it was 80 degrees and sopping-wet humid out there. Very embarrassing. Tomorrow? Mesh tank top and snow pants. Half of me will be comfortable, anyway.

Reverse that

Carhartt tank top and mesh snow pants? That’s just good fashion right there.