Bottlerocket (the movie)

Fingers.  Check.  Toes.  Check.  Eyebrows.  Check.  Groin.  Check.  Yay, another 4th of July survived.  More so than blowing stuff up, I enjoy the 4th because it awards me the luxury of reciting the tale of the “Firecracker Dog” to my children.

When I was a kid, there was this neighborhood dog who, for 364 days of the year, was a nice, normal dog.  On that one day of the year however, as soon as the sounds of fireworks started, he went freaking ape shit.  Not ape-shit-I’m-gonna-bark-at-you-cuz-I’m-scared-of-the-sound, but ape-shit-I’m-gonna-run-into-the-middle-of-whatever-is-exploding-and-try-to-eat-it.  If you tossed one of those chaingun-like, strings of Black Cats on the ground, this dog would be in the middle of it, chomping like mad, trying his best to experience gun powder flavor country.

To coincide with this dog trying to take Pop Rock candy to the next level, he had no teeth.  We only ever knew the dog sans teeth, so the cause -> effect was always just a part of our mythology.  In our minds however, the myth was busted, the reason for the lack of teeth was pretty obvious.

I don’t know what ever happened to Firecracker Dog, perhaps he ate one M80 too many.  Either way, his legacy will live on forever.