The day the clock exploded was the day I knew that I was not only awesome, but also pure genius personified. I was 6. After taking the clock apart on the back porch, (something the merely average little girl never seems to think of doing), I put it back together with a few additions such as clay from the potted plant and a fuse from the house fuse box system. The only thing left to do was to take my twin brothers' cap gun and rob the caps of their gunpowder. I also took a few of his leftover PopIts from the Fourth of July. And voila! With a twist here and a push there, I had the clock all wired up and the alarm set. A genius was not born that day, because I was born 6 years ago. No, only the knowledge of that geniusness was born. And my twin brother. Yes, he was there. That day, he attained the rank of chief sidekick.
I went on from there. All through elementary school, middle school, and high school, I rigged gadgets that exploded. Of course, I didn't always have gunpowder on hand, and the teachers didn't like it anyway. But I learned a lot during those years about the exploding power of water and air. Chief Sidekick had a new material for me to try nearly every day. I played pranks on the basketball team, football team, soccer team, and baseball team. All designed never to harm anyone, of course. Sometimes the team might walk into their locker room and set off an explosion of their shoes. The best one was when they triggered an explosion of the gate where all the basketballs were kept. When I graduated, my class voted me "most likely to be a successful terrorist." They named me valedictorian anyway. My teachers? Yeah, they couldn't wait to see me leave.
In college, I met a guy. Nothing romantic, of course. But we breathed on the same wavelength, and he knew a lot more than I did. He was my physics teacher, after all. His classes were always full because a day didn't go by without something exploding. Very fun for the average student, naturally, but for me...
Chief Sidekick, PG, (Physics Guy) and I formed an inseparable trio. When all those baseball geeks were trying to get the attention of major league scouts, we had a bigger goal in mind. You see, we all had this idea that the government, particularly the international branches thereof, were the greatest achievement anyone could hope to get. We had it all figured out. PG was going to be military chief, I was going to be head of the FBI, and Chief Sidekick would be president. (He liked law stuff better than we did, so that's why he got that job). So, all our pranks and experiments had one goal. We didn't want to go campaigning or anything like that-much too dull. We wanted them to come to us. They were going to hear about us and our geniusness and were going to ask us to join the team. Then we were going to wow them with our abilities and get promoted within the same year.
It actually started to work. I should say "actually," like I was surprised. Awesomeness always works the way we intended it.
One day, we were front-page news! And everyday after that! Almost simultaneously, PG was approached by the then president of the United States and asked if he would come on as honorary military chief advisor. Honorary. Haha. Within three weeks the previous dude resigned and nominated PG to success him. Mr. President Man became pretty good friends with PG.
Two days later, the FBI head honcho accidentally became one of the "dearly departed." Mr. President asked PG for his advice, and so I was installed immediately.
Along about then, those marvelous 4 year elections rolled around. Mr. President Man wasn't eligible to re-run, so I wrote in Chief Sidekick's name. No campaigning, no nothing. Just a name written into that little blank line on the ballot. Come Jan., we had a new Pres. My twin bro.
Goodness, things were fun in those days. We hired a few of our former highschool classmates. Anytime the news asked how things were going, our employees and associates would say that this new era was the funnest in history. Yessir! We made what I like to call...an impact, on this country.
All sorts of little explosions went on. In the White House, out into the streets, and around the world. International relations were, well, they were.
By the time those first 4 years were over, it was clear there was no one else beside us in the world to compare with us. Errr. It was clear there was no one else besides us in the world. Oooops.
Let's just say they weren't all, ahem, small, harmless explosions. You see, me and PG, we kinda accidentally mis-measured the ingredients on our last little experiment. We were just trying to give the Olympics Opening Ceremony a few new sorts of fireworks, and then. Yikes. Um. Hmm.
Going out with a bang.
