Poppers

Freedom, I say to myself. Freedom. I am free, to do whatever I want. To eat chocolate until I'm sick. To set up a God made of Popsicle sticks and call her Sheila and worship her. To watch terrible movies about serial killers all day. To buy a gun. To shoot a gun. To set off fireworks. To throw those little popper things down on the ground. Those are fun. I used to sneak up behind my mom and throw those things down behind her to scare her. She used to love that, my mom. After dad left us for California I bought a bunch of those with my allowance so I could have plenty to scare mom with. God, we had some good times, mom and me with those poppers. We'd go around the neighborhood behind the old ladies out for a stroll and throw the poppers down, run away, and laugh. Pop! Pop! Oh my! they would say. Oh my! Pop! Pop!