"I screamed into the sky!"

Honestly,

I've hated July 4th since I was a kid. Beginning with the death of my grandparents' beloved dog Muffy who, frightened by firecrackers, ran out into the street. A few years later, while watching the Dutch Clark fireworks from a front porch in Aberdeen, the middle finger of right hand was stung horribly by an unknown insect, swelling it to 3 times its size. Flash-forward many years to around 1998. My sister was picking me up from Pete's house & we were driving through a (seemingly) deserted intersection in downtown Pueblo, when we were struck by someone running the red-light. And, of course since I'm Entropyboy, the person who hit us was Pete's ex. 

In fact, I have hated the entire month until I had a family of my own & had a reason to set aside all my petty hatreds & think about the enjoyment of the kids. Those years contained the only 4th's I've ever enjoyed myself. 

But, now I don't have a family anymore & it's like that horrible month has just been lying in wait, ready to spew its fucking wretchedness upon me anew. July has never been kind to me before and it seems, after a brief respite, will resume it's cruelty.