The start of year 2000 was marked with many misconceptions, some predicted the end of the world.
I didn’t experience any earthquakes, hail of comets, floods, locust, or even a little power outage, but new years did start with a bang.
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I was preparing for a little bit of the end of the world, in my own cheap, lazy way. Having perused the aisles of the hardware stores in town, and seeing the prices on diesel generators, I decided that a small pile of cordwood in the backyard was the prudent choice. Similarly, bottled water always did seem to be an unnecessary expense, especially when I could just make my own at home.
Remembering both my SCA/Legion training and the Great Mid-South Ice storm in ’94, I realized that I could actually survive a little while without modern conveniences. I made sure that there were clean milk and juice jugs full of water discretely hidden all about the house, and that there was an ample supply of dry foods and other goodies. Note: These items were discretely hidden, not because of fear of invading vandals, but in case all the Y2K worries were unfounded and my friends might come by and laugh at me before I had disposed of it all.
As I watched the New Year celebration simulcast, and the New Year dawned around the globe, I was relieved to notice that we only had gaudy costumes and melodramatic musical presentations to worry about; not power outages and supply-line interruptions. I then proceeded with my usual holiday plans.... with House Shadow Legion.
Just as with Christmas, Pappa Kane & Mama ‘Lissa took me in for their holiday orphan party.... I had no other intentions for New Years. I packed a few things and left around 8 pm.
I was loaded for bear, with cokes, champagne, sleeping bag, and a change of clothes.
When I arrived, Sunnifa, Kane and Damon were somberly gathered around a firebox in the front yard. The weather was mild, and there was no real need for huddling, but fires tend to be hypnotic, and they were pulled in, and glued to their lawn chairs.
I heard Ilissa noises from inside the house, and reached the front steps in time to see her burst forth wearing a foil party hat and millennial paper glasses.
“Happy New Year!!!” she bellowed, slammed a blue paper top hat on my head, and directed me on where to place the champagne. I noticed several bottles of anonymous wine in the cooler, their labels detached or faded from numerous moves and submersions in melted ice water.
The spread was, as always in Shadowlegion style, done really well. Blue foil streamers, tablecloth and napkins, all proclaiming “Happy 2000!” glittered in the warm living room. A mountain of cheese, an ocean of dips, a bale of bread, all of these presented in at least 3 flavors each.
Laughter rumbled through the walls from the group around the campfire outside. One of Barb’s dogs held a ball in his mouth and nuzzled me for attention.
I grabbed a cheese sandwich and a luminescent green cup full of punch, sat down and sighed. If the world was going to end, I was right where I wanted to be; surrounded by family.
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Not much later, I noticed Ilissa hanging up the phone, and heading in our direction. “That was Bill the Cat. His party is packing up and heading over here.”
And, in a short time, the caravan of revelers arrived. Most noticeable in the group was Bill the Cat and his newest giggling acquisition, some possibly under-aged female of deep southern origin who snickered whenever he referred to himself as her “sugar daddy.”
As is the custom when visiting our good Duchess Illissa..... everyone brought something.
Guest One: “Barb, I brought some cheese dip.” Her Grace: “Oh, thanks! You’re so nice.... just put it inside!”
Guest Two: “Ilissa, here’s some champagne.” Her Grace: “Wonderful! Here’s the cooler.”
Guest Three: “Barb, have a brownie, and pass them around.” Her Grace: “Great!”
Guest Four: “Illissa, where shall I set up the cannon?”
That last guest question was from AEthalrick.
Cannon? Like those little desk top replicas from the Franklin Mint?
Not quite.
So the cannon hits the ground with a tremendous noise that was too thick to be a “clang” and too metallic to be a “thud”........ ‘The thing must be very very heavy’, I thought, and I peered around the back end of the pick up truck to see.
He had apparently needed to winch it from the truck bed, because merely rolling it out would have broken the tailgate.
It was a dull silver color, and perfectly cylindrical. Featureless on the outside. It did not resemble any cannon I’d seen in history books, no tapering ends, cartwheels, or nodule for the fuse. It was a dinner-plate-diameter cylinder; with a teacup sized bore down the center (a 36 inch high cylinder made of a 4.5 inch thick wall).
“Can you give me an assist?” he asked while lifting and dragging the tremendous thing past the front gates of Kane and Ilissa’s driveway. “I felt something touch against my leg, and my hands are full right now.”
“That’s a cannon?” I asked, heaving the life-size stone ornamental German Shepard statue off of his ankle and returning it to its full upright position.
He assured me that it packed quite the kick. He said that it weighed 280 lbs, and he and another pyromania.... er.... blacksmith friend had made it themselves. About this time, Ilissa had made it to the end of her driveway on the country road that she shared with the other small farmers and animal breeders in the area. AEthalrick asked the now legendary question..............
“Ilissa, where do you want me to set up the cannon?”
Her Grace’s response: “Well, AEthalrick, what is that thing gonna do? Will it be destructive?”
“That’s why I point it straight up, usually. It’s not loaded with anything but paper and powder, but the force of the blast can shatter windows.”
“Good.” Said Ilissa, with no hesitation. “Point it right over there.” Her royal finger indicated the pristine country home directly across the street. The neighbors in question had made the error of once reporting Ilissa to the country health board, complaining about the barking of her dogs.
As a commercial kennel, in an area zoned for the growing of crops and breeding of animals, she is of course legally within her rights to breed dogs, which will bark. However, the several thousands of dollars she had to spend in court proving this point had not gone forgotten.
“OK” said AEthalrick with no hesitation, and busied himself with finding a suitable rock to prop up the cannon to give it a good angle.
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The rest of us returned to our party pursuits, which mainly consisted of snacks, fizzy, refreshing beverages, and listening to the various radio live-news festivities.
Every once in a while, AEthalrick would come back up the drive (about 500 feet) and take in a few nibbles of snack, and gulps of wine, and head back down the hill.
We commenced to setting off conventional fireworks in the yard. The usual stuff: Bottle rockets, roman candles, cherry bombs, etc. It was quite nice.
Soon, the 11th hour was reaching its final moments. We yelled down the curving drive, past the trees “AEthalrick!! GET READY!!”
We heard what might have been the faint sounds of swearing coming from the darkness at the end of the drive.
At 11:59, AEthalrick was up the hill, back at the picnic table and firebox, searching for a replacement fuse. He was slightly winded from running, and groping around madly. He seized some paper bits, and one of the fireworks punks, (basically, an unscented incense stick) and ran back down the hill.
The only bang we heard was our own modest set of firecrackers, and some pops from Dick Clark’s festivities.
Several minutes into the millennium, the bulk of the partygoers noticed that they had become simultaneously cold and hungry, and most importantly, that our glasses were empty. So we adjourned for the interior of the house. As I headed on in with the others, I gave a last worried glance over my shoulder, into the darkness down the drive.
It was 12:07 on January 1st, 2000, when, in the midst of animated and comfortable conversation, we heard the .........
Having lived near an air force base as a child, I remember the sonic booms from the occasional special aircraft that would grace the skies in my neighborhood. Having lived in Gulf South, I remember the occasional petroleum refinery plant explosion that would rock the city and rattle windows.
This sound was not a twin, but a close cousin of those excellent deep rumblings. Pictures fell from the walls, the ceiling fan swayed, little Connor woke up crying, the dogs in the back 40 acres commenced to howling. The conversation never stopped, and almost no one looked up or even changed their expression. After 2 or 3 minutes of silence from outside, Sunnifa finally said, “well, I guess AEthalrick got it lit.” Someone else asked, “Should we go check on him?” His Grace, Duke Sir Kane, was shaking his head, muttering something about having to explain the smoking rump roast that was probably in his yard, since he was certain that Aethalrick had quite literally blown his ass off. “........and I’ll have to call a tow to move his pickup truck, because his keys are probably in his pants pocket.”
We headed outside and down the hill. Tiny bits of glowing paper were still drifting in the smoke-filled air.
Her Grace was first to reach him. “ All you all right?” Ilissa was truly concerned. The cloud of smoke was huge, and an instant guestimate of how long it had taken him to walk this far indicated that he had been very close to the cannon when it was ignited.
“What?” was his only response. Her Grace was only about 24 inches away from him.
Apparently, the fuse cord had failed, and despite many repeated attempts to get it lit, AEthalrick had become infuriated and impatient. Faced with the looming deadline of The Century, he nixed the idea of emptying and repacking the cannon, and instead, sprinkled a little extra powder down the hole, tossed in a lit match, and ran.
Now, at this time, I will mention that AEthalrick, being a well-liked fellow, has many social invitations on his calendar, and often has to fly from one special event to another, with no opportunity to make it over to his remote home in the suburban wilds of Germantown. This was the case on that night, as well. AEthalrick had attended a wedding that afternoon, and was still fully dressed in a conservative looking, matte black suit, white shirt, and tie, (although with the beard, you wouldn’t have seen the tie easily)
So when I say that when we all stepped outside and headed towards the drive, we saw an Amish terrorist headed up the walkway, coughing as he emerged from the smoke....................
you’ll know exactly what I mean.