Fireflies

Thursday was almost a perfect night. It wasn't too hot, but it was warm enough. It wasn't humid, but it wasn't bone dry. We anxiously awaited the sunset so that we could light off fireworks. Gregory had a nice bonfire ablaze, and we all had sticky marshmallow fingers and faces. I looked over towards our front yard and saw a bunch of fireflies flying around. It had been at least a year since I had gotten a jar out and chased after those awesome little creatures. I had a sudden urge to act like a complete child and run around trapping innocent bugs in a jar, so I did. I only managed to catch two before Daddy lit off the first firecracker. I asked Momma what I should name them. I was thinking about two deeply profound names, such as Frank and Bob. (That was sarcasm, by the way...), but she had something better in mind. "How about Hypoxia and Malnutrition? Because that is what they are going to die of quite soon if you don't get them out of that jar." I instantly fell in love with those names, and then proceeded to the house to stab the lid with a knife to help cure the hypoxia situation. To help fix the malnutrition problem, I put a couple blades of grass, some popcorn, and a marshmallow in the jar. About 5 minutes later, an ingenious thought popped into my head. (Also sarcasm...) I thought that Hypoxia and Malnutrition might get thirsty, so I dumped some of my lemonade into the bottom of the jar. Bad. Idea. I drowned Hypoxia and Malnutrition! They were dead! My Grandmother was laughing at me and my extreme disappointment. I eventually laughed along with her after I dumped out my jar of lemonade, marshmallow, grass, popcorn, and two dead fireflies. This is why I do not take care of any of our pets. End of story.