When evening came, a huge crowd gathered in the park close to the Community centre. In a corner of the Municipal Sandbox stood Rune Bengthelin with a firm grip of his homemade fireworks.
This was the highlight of his life. Now he would show them what he was worth. He said:
“I will start with a firework that consists not of eight – nay – NINE rockets. They will fill the sky with a cracking and banging and will form the image of a big fountain of light!”
He lit the fuse and hurried away to put himself in safety. There was a skedaddle and some sizzling but instead of a cascade of colours and a fountain of light, there was just a “pffft” and then the fuse went out.
This did not discourage Bengthelin. He put his next collection of fireworks in the sandbox and raised his voice:
“ This firework will go 100 meters (yes, even then the metric system was the one in use in Upland, as in the rest of Sweden), turn in a bow, spit a cascade of green stars and then explode in a rain of orange circles”.
He lit the fuse and ran to cover fast enough to see his rockets hurrying off across the lawn and collide with the podium where mr Mayor now was finishing his speech. The explosion blew the podium in to pieces and mr Mayor was treated a journey up in the air for three or four meters. But alas – there were no stars or circles of light to please the watching crowd.
The crowd now laughed at poor Rune Bengthelin. He, the great pyrotechnician, could not even get some simple rockets off the ground! And for this they had refrained from watching Trinny and Susanna and their escapades among the British fashionhouses on BBC! Some even bent down to lift things off the ground in order to throwthem on Rune. A stone, a pinecone, a handful of gravel.
But our hero did not let this discourage him. He was going to show them!
In a last desperate attempt he gathered all his remaining rockets and bound them toghether with the first charge that had not workde. Now he would be damned if it should not work!
Once again he lit the fuse and held it firm so it would not fall out. This time he would do all to get an explosion!
“This charge will …” He did not get any further until the fireworks literally bombarded them with a fountain of explosions. There was a banging and a whisteling and a howling! And the sky was lit up by circles and stars and some of the fingers that Rune got blown off in the bang.
And when everything was over it was a happy Rune Bengthelin that met the cheering crowd. A few fingers and one eye less – but happy and content. And this day the legend of the Great Pyrotechnician was born. And if he is not dead he probably still is alive.
[bloggar] humor, satir, satire, humour, tomas ahlbeck, märsta, suburbia [/bloggar]