Fireworks...part two...
So Part two is where it got messy.
A decision had been made by my family that as there were five of us going to Miss R's late Halloween/Fireworks Party, then we would go as The Adams Family. The line up was as follows:
Gomez (Dad of the family, spiv) : Son number two
Morticia (mum, vamp, sexy) : ELL (Son number two's girlfriend)
Uncle Fester (Old, bald and fat) : Yours truly
Wednesday (Young girl, solemn, plaited): Daughter number one
Pugsley (Small boy, big stomach) : The husband
Now my character and the husband's both had stomachs larger that those we posses naturally, so pillows were taken from the bed and stuffed up the husband's t-shirt and my cassock. The husband, playing the part of a small boy, donned a pudding basin wig, and I was sporting a bald head and a face so white that I almost glowed in the dark.
We all looked great (courtesy of one of my lovely readers, Mrs H) and tipped up at Miss R's at the allotted time. As we all stood on her doorstep clicking our fingers in the mostly appropriate places (the husband has no rhythm, so clicked willy-nilly), Miss R looked round to see where I was. Finally settling on the bleached whale (courtesy of the face paint and pillow) her shock when I spoke was brilliant, and it set the tone for the night. The great thing about playing an overweight bloke in a cassock is that I could let it all hang out, and there was a lot of frenetic dancing in the living room.
Now the pillow tummies had advantages in that the husband and I didn't feel the cold when we were outside when the fireworks were lit, but on the bad side, they made us sweat. I also had the added disadvantage of my cassock rope being the only thing standing between my rotund shape and the results of a crash diet. The husband managed to keep his pillow in place all night (slightly too small a t-shirt), but I relented around midnight. I suppose I was worried that the heat might rise (as it tends to do) and melt my face. Now that would have been something to terrify small children with...
I do need to go back to the fireworks at this point. My nephew, Master J, was in charge of the fireworks, and we 'oohed' and 'aahed' in all the right places as the first five rockets went up. Then disaster struck as it often does in home grown displays.
Three of the rockets were imbedded too deeply in the lawn (Master J being over zealous with his rubber mallet again) and basically just exploded, shooting hot sparks everywhere. I had been standing on the corner of the house, ever cautious, and missed the rest of the fireworks as I was crouched behind the wall mounted hose pipe with my eyes shut just in case.
I eventually managed to scrape the remains of my family together around 2.00am and rounded them up towards the car.
As we drove home, someone who shall remain nameless slurred that he/she needed to be sick.
As he/she struggled across to get to the window, his/her timing was off cue, and he/she managed to throw up before we had a chance to open the window.
And it all started so well....
A decision had been made by my family that as there were five of us going to Miss R's late Halloween/Fireworks Party, then we would go as The Adams Family. The line up was as follows:
Gomez (Dad of the family, spiv) : Son number two
Morticia (mum, vamp, sexy) : ELL (Son number two's girlfriend)
Uncle Fester (Old, bald and fat) : Yours truly
Wednesday (Young girl, solemn, plaited): Daughter number one
Pugsley (Small boy, big stomach) : The husband
Now my character and the husband's both had stomachs larger that those we posses naturally, so pillows were taken from the bed and stuffed up the husband's t-shirt and my cassock. The husband, playing the part of a small boy, donned a pudding basin wig, and I was sporting a bald head and a face so white that I almost glowed in the dark.
We all looked great (courtesy of one of my lovely readers, Mrs H) and tipped up at Miss R's at the allotted time. As we all stood on her doorstep clicking our fingers in the mostly appropriate places (the husband has no rhythm, so clicked willy-nilly), Miss R looked round to see where I was. Finally settling on the bleached whale (courtesy of the face paint and pillow) her shock when I spoke was brilliant, and it set the tone for the night. The great thing about playing an overweight bloke in a cassock is that I could let it all hang out, and there was a lot of frenetic dancing in the living room.
Now the pillow tummies had advantages in that the husband and I didn't feel the cold when we were outside when the fireworks were lit, but on the bad side, they made us sweat. I also had the added disadvantage of my cassock rope being the only thing standing between my rotund shape and the results of a crash diet. The husband managed to keep his pillow in place all night (slightly too small a t-shirt), but I relented around midnight. I suppose I was worried that the heat might rise (as it tends to do) and melt my face. Now that would have been something to terrify small children with...
I do need to go back to the fireworks at this point. My nephew, Master J, was in charge of the fireworks, and we 'oohed' and 'aahed' in all the right places as the first five rockets went up. Then disaster struck as it often does in home grown displays.
Three of the rockets were imbedded too deeply in the lawn (Master J being over zealous with his rubber mallet again) and basically just exploded, shooting hot sparks everywhere. I had been standing on the corner of the house, ever cautious, and missed the rest of the fireworks as I was crouched behind the wall mounted hose pipe with my eyes shut just in case.
I eventually managed to scrape the remains of my family together around 2.00am and rounded them up towards the car.
As we drove home, someone who shall remain nameless slurred that he/she needed to be sick.
As he/she struggled across to get to the window, his/her timing was off cue, and he/she managed to throw up before we had a chance to open the window.
And it all started so well....
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