The Worst Idea Ever
One day when I was about fourteen years old, I bought a bunch of fireworks (rockets mostly) from that shady guy who roams the halls of every high school selling contraband. I went over to my friend Don’s house in the afternoon and we really wanted to shoot some of them off – but it was raining outside, and we didn’t want to stand outside getting wet.
Read more:
The Worst Idea Ever


