A Truckload of Fireworks and a Fundraiser Gone Terribly Wrong

Dr. StrangeJob wanted the InComps’ fundraising event to be a blast. He acquired a truckload of discounted fireworks to sell and rented a local warehouse. He asked members of InComps to brainstorm ideas for the event. In their contrarian fashion, the group eventually settled on “Dr. StrangeJob’s House of Horrors, Seniors’ Health Workshop, and Fireworks Emporium”.

Unfortunately, just before the event, the booked venue shut down due to Covid. Luckily, Dr. StrangeJob quickly came up with a new plan. Grabbing his phone, he called his colleague Andre Le Pouce Vert.

“Hey, Andre, it’s Dr. StrangeJob. I need your help again.”

“Sure, what’s up,” replies Andre.

“We had planned a Halloween event to sell fireworks and stuff,” says StrangeJob, “but we just lost the location, so I decided to move the event to the waterfront by the Big Fiddle. We don’t have any permits, but I’m hoping you can help us set things up and keep security off our backs.”

“Sounds like déjà vu,” says Andre, “You can count me in. I still don’t get why they built a 60-foot fiddle next to the Cruise Pavilion”.

“I guess some marketing guru must have decided that the “World’s Largest Fiddle” would bring more cruise ships to the Port,” replies StrangeJob. “Speaking of which, there’s a cruise ship in tomorrow, so the plan is to set up by noon. If anyone in the group is asked about permits or such, they will direct the questions to you. All you need to do is keep security baffled like you did the last time by speaking in your best Quebec French regional dialect.”

“J’va le faire,” exclaims Andre.

“One more thing,” notes StrangeJob, “If you still have the van and portable generator, can you pick up Miss Mackie and her industrial strength fan? This damn heatwave will never end, and she wants to use it for her seniors’ yoga class.”

The next day…

The events are about to begin. Dr. StrangeJob had safely stored the fireworks in the shade behind the Big Fiddle. He was strolling around the Big Fiddle, asking bystanders if they were interested in purchasing fireworks on the cheap. Madi was busy selling her homemade high-fibre black bean brownies to the crowd of seniors waiting for the yoga class to start. She had already set up her table, complete with a decorative crystal ball, for her astrological readings. Jesse, a new group member, was setting up her Tarot readings table and a selection of patchouli-scented windproof candles for sale. Psycho Sam, wearing his favorite kilt, was organizing equipment for his fire-eating demonstration. Zippy was recording the event with his drone and keeping Andre informed of the Port Security’s whereabouts.

It was a perfect day, with a perfect plan. What could go wrong?

What transpired next is still under investigation, but the police have classified Dr. StrangeJob’s disappearance as a misadventure with extenuating circumstances. His final destination is currently unknown.

The exact chronology of events has not yet been confirmed, but it went something like this: Miss Mackie and about 20 seniors were practicing the downward-dog and wind-relieving poses when Madie’s high-fibre black bean brownies kicked in. Miss Mackie determined this as the opportune time to turn on her industrial strength fan. The resulting image of Psycho Sam with kilt blown from under sent a wave of shock and awe through the crowd. This was also the exact moment that Psycho Sam was completing his first fire breathing exercise. “Not again!” screamed Psycho Sam, just as the methane ignited by his fire-eating demonstration burned off his eyebrows and made any further manscaping redundant.

Who knew that 20 seniors could pass so much gas?

Sam’s up-kilting and the blast of methane flame startled Madi. Jumping from her booth, she inadvertently knocked the crystal ball from her table. The crystal ball then rolled into the corner of Jesse’s booth, knocking one of the pre-lit pachouli windproof candles to the ground.

Things get a bit sketchy from this point. Unfortunately, the Port’s security cameras had stopped recording while Port Security personnel were busy reviewing Sam’s kilt malfunction. However, according to Zippy’s drone footage, the pre-lit patchouli windproof candle was last seen rolling towards the back of the Big Fiddle.

That’s when things blew-up! Calling it an explosion would be an understatement. The combination of the black bean brownie-fueled methane blast, Psycho Sam’s fiery breath, and candle-ignited fireworks resulted in a huge, thunderous, and dazzling fireball that shook the foundations of the Sydney wharf. The resulting tsunami swept the docked cruise ship up the harbour, knocking a partially constructed new building off its pillared foundation.  

Meanwhile, between photo-ops, the Mayor had just popped into their office, for a quick review of weekly social media reports. Their communication team had raised concerns about online chatter critical to current municipal policies and procedures. The Mayor was particularly concerned with reports of recent activities of Dr. StrangeJob. StrangeJob had given the previous administration plenty of trouble, and there was talk that he was considering another run for civic politics. Just as the Mayor was blocking Dr. StrangeJob from their social media accounts, they were distracted by the noise and cascade of fireworks. The view from her harbour window was startling. Shocked, they watched as what appeared to be Dr. StrangeJob riding the World’s Largest Fiddle mid-flight, spiraling towards Sydney River.

Meanwhile, Andre had safely dispersed the crowd hanging around the Big Fiddle and managed to get the Incomps members safely into the back of his truck. He was barreling down the Esplanade in his best “storm-chaser” mode just as the World’s Largest Fiddle took a sharp downward dive towards the middle of Sydney Harbour.

Dr. StrangeJob, on the other hand, had just remembered the punchline to an old question/answer joke. The question was, “What goes through a fly’s mind when it hits the windshield of a car?” He also wondered what happened to the 48 million litres of untreated wastewater that had recently escaped into the harbour. As usual, he always seemed to find himself right in the middle of it. 

The end – for now.

This episode was previously published in the Fall 2022 edition of ‘Magine: Unama’ki / Cape Breton’s Literary Magazine.  Sketches are courtesy of Joel Inglis.

Dr. StrangeJob is a satirical blogger, retired educator, social activist, actor, screenwriter, creator of Incompetents Anonymous (IA), and interim leader of the CBLA-InComps. He can be reached at drstrangejob@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @drstrangejob or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/drstrangejob.  Previous InComps episodes can be found @ www.drstrangejob.ca.  

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