There was intensive preparations for the New Year. During one of the flights for groceries dad saw a tent with crackers, rockets and other pyrotechnics.
- Oh! - Clicked in my head the Pope. - Children will be delighted!
- What's that? - He asked the seller, pointing to a large cardboard box.
- Homemade fireworks.
In all possible ways he learned from the seller that the machine is completely safe at home and received such assurances, which never dreamed of any insurance company. December 31 morning began with preparations. Mother and grandmother cooked, fried and steamed, and all others as much as to interfere with this process. By nine o'clock began the construction of the monumental table, bursting with a variety of dishes. In the center of the table was placed a cardboard box of fireworks. She looked exactly like a cake.
Ten minutes before midnight, when all praznichno dressed and gathered around the table, the Pope made a statement that he had prepared a surprise for all. Under interested glances upper lid of the box was removed, under which the battery was found round cardboard cups.
- And let's - said the Pope - to celebrate New Year not only champagne, but also beautiful magical fiery fountain!
- Fire? - Alarmed mother-in-law.
- Beautiful - said the Pope. - Do not worry, everything is taken into account, a special homemade fireworks.
Grandpa slapped cork and poured champagne by the glass. All stood round the table, and my father has prepared a match. On the first play of the chimes he lit the wick. Small fire briskly whisked off somewhere between the cups. All fascinated stare at light smoke. With the first blow of hours worked first cup. From it with a deafening explosion and rushed rocket exploded, hitting the ceiling. A bright flash lit open eyes and gaping mouths. Room instantly enveloped in thick smoke. Next double explosions sounded in unison with chimes, colorful flashes beautifully lit smoke inside. It's amazing how smoothly five adults and a child left the room during the pause before the start of the second rocket through a narrow door and zahlopuli it. When the gunfire died down, Dad threw open the door and found her smoke. Touching hands smoke, Dad plunged into it without a splash and opened the window, a stiff wind blowing. Grandfather opened the door to the stairs. All worked silently and smoothly, like a good team. Airing took surprisingly little time. All silently entered the room. The room was terrible. Chandelier was intact, but hardly shone from under a layer of soot. In mourning crimson light was seen that all exactly covered fluffy matte-black oily soot. Everything - walls, ceiling, floor, furniture and food on the table.
There was no discussion. No questions asked dad not. He told me how it was, and believed him immediately and unconditionally.
The purpose of "but it will be something to remember" was reached at a hundred percent.