Even in my semi-incapacitated state, I still found a way to celebrate the Fourth Of July with my Papi by infusing my own special brand of Infidel verve.
After we gorged ourselves on a very patriotic, Founding Father-approved meal of hot dogs, baked beans, and apple pie, we sent the kids to bed.......and then the real fireworks show began!
As the loud explosions and crackles rippled through the night air from our many neighbors who chose to take their paycheck and light it aflame; I utilized the festive opportunity to disguise the sound of my own loud explosions and crackles. Surprisingly, Papi didn't react with the oohs and aahs that a good show commands. Why, he didn't even bother to clap or cheer wildly while clamoring for an encore presentation. Instead, he chastised me, and thus, I felt compelled that on that day, of all days, to rise up and defend myself against his oppressive tyranny.
After all, who is he to infringe on my inalienable rights set forth in the Constitution? Neither I, nor my gastric track, will be silenced. We have the right to our freedom of expression and never should flatulence suffer the inhumane bonds of restrictive repression. That's just wholly un-American. Nay, sayeth I, I'm choosing to let freedom ring and give my gas the independence that it deserves. After a day filled with discussion of how much we love this country and the story of its founding that lends itself to an obvious hand of divinity in the process, how could Papi possibly quibble with me?