Billy Rankle was sitting on the curb waiting. An empty tequila bottle lay on its side in the gutter beside him. "Hey, asshole!" he said. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Goddamned cop pulled me over."
"Well, I been waitin' for an hour." Billy yanked open the passenger side door and made as if to flop into the front seat. Thrash shot out his arm and pushed, sending Billy sprawling back onto the asphalt.
"Careful!" Thrash yelped. He pulled the bundle of dynamite out from under the seat and tossed it into the back.
Billy picked himself up. "Holy fucking shit, man! What's all that West Texas Ex-Lax for?"
"Birthday candles," said Thrash.
Billy frowned and gingerly climbed into the car. "I thought we was just gonna go shoot some pool, man."
Thrash grinned, his eyes wide and very bright. Billy shook his head disgustedly. "Sheeeeit... I hate it when we change plans."

Billy motioned for the waitress to refill his cup. "I just don't understand you, man," he whispered. "You go to all that trouble, and for what?"
The waitress poured Billy more coffee. Her nametag read "Dolly".
Thrash sighed. "I know, I know. I just don't wanna waste 'em. It's gotta be something worthy."
Dolly put down the pyrex coffee globe. "Problem, Sugar?"
"Yeah." Thrash rested his chin in his palm. "Today's my forty-fifth birthday, so I stole a dozen sticks of dynamite, except now I can't make up my mind what I wanna blow up."
Billy blanched. "Shit, Thrash! Don't go telling her stuff like that!" He flashed a panicky smile at Dolly. "He's just kidding around with you," he said. "He does that all the time."
Dolly looked at Thrash, then at Billy, then back at Thrash. "You aren't kidding, are you?"
"Nope," said Thrash sadly.
"Forty-five's sure a tough one alright," she said. She leaned back and looked up. "Hmmm... What would I blow up if I got the chance?"
"Tell you what," said Thrash. "You think of something worth blowing up, and I'll let you watch."
"Well God damn," said Dolly. "I always did love fireworks. Gimme a couple minutes to close up."
Billy stared at them with his mouth hanging open.
Dolly untied her apron and tossed it across the counter. "Maybe Doc Jacobson could help us figure this out," she said. "He's a cranky old bastard."

"You should have never come to me," said Doc Jacobson, standing on his porch. "Because of my damned Hippocratic Oath, if I'm involved you'll have to restrict yourselves to mere property damage." He tightened the belt of his robe.
Thrash shrugged. "Fine with me. I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want to blow something up."
"Oh," said Doc Jacobson, dissappointed.
"Any ideas, Doc?" asked Dolly.
"Now that you mention it, no."
"Lot of that goin' around," said Billy. He sat in the porch swing.
Doc Jacobson pulled a pair of bifocals out of a pocket and put them on. "We could blow up that new hospital across town... Rich pretty-boy jerks..."
"Doc!"
"Just a joke," he said. "This is very odd. Like any other intelligent person, I've spent my entire life building up petty resentments and jealosies. Now that I have a chance to actually do something about one of them I can't decide which one."
"I know. It's like, what if we blow something up, and then we wake up tomorrow with a better idea, only now it's too late?" said Thrash.
"Exactly."
"Oh, for--" Billy stood up, exasperated. "This is ridiculous. Why don't we just have a goddamned town meeting and take a vote, for chrissakes?"

"Come to order!" Mayor Granger banged on the rostrum. "Will you please come to order!" His gravelly voice echoed through the town hall.
The crowd slowly calmed. More than half of them were still in their pajamas.
"That's better." The Mayor consulted his notes. "Now, we've all agreed that blowing up something that will set off a chain reaction and kill us all, such as the gas company, is unacceptable."
"Not all of us agreed," said a man in the back row.
"So noted," said the Mayor. "Does anyone have a serious suggestion?"
Several hands shot up.
"The dry fountain in Digger's Park!"
"The statue of Roy Cohn!"
"That new hospital across town!"
Thrash got to his feet. A silence fell.
Mayor Granger nodded to him. "Yes, Mr. Driveshaft?"
"I think I finally know the perfect thing to blow up," Thrash said.
The crowd waited.
"We should blow up the steel bridge on Route 34."
No one said anything for a long time. Then someone began clapping, then someone else, and soon it was a standing ovation.
The Mayor slapped Thrash on the back. "Hell, son," he said, "have you thought about running for City Council?"

The bridge on Route 34 shone in the glare of forty headlights. A mob had gathered on the riverbank to witness the explosion.
Billy stared up at the huge assembly of steel girders and trusses. "You sure we've got enough dynamite to do the job?" he asked. "This thing looks pretty strong."
Dolly scrambled up the bank and dusted her hands off on her dress. "The way I placed the charges, this thing should go down faster than a deb on prom night." They walked together toward Thrash and the Mayor.
Billy looked at her sideways. "So you gonna tell me how come you know how to blow up a bridge?"
"My ex-husband had some peculiar hobbies."
Thrash looked up as they approached. "Everything set?"
"Anytime you're ready." She handed him a switchbox connected to two wires.
Mayor Granger waved his arms above his head. "Attention! Everyone take cover!"
People ducked behind rocks and cars.
"Ready?" yelled Thrash.
"Ready!" yelled a hundred men, women and children.
Thrash grinned. "Three... two... one..."
A chorus of voices rose through the darkness:

"Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday dear Thra-ash,
Happy birthday to you!"

There was a lot of noise, a lot of light, and a lot of twisted metal debris raining from the sky. Fires burned here and there beside the river. The bridge was gone.
Mayor Granger was jumping around like a little kid. "Fuckin-A!" he kept shouting, over and over. "Fuckin-A!"
Billy stared at the place where the bridge used to be. "Jesus," he whispered.
Dolly turned to Thrash and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy birthday, sweetie."
Doc Jacobson came trotting up with a quart of Jack Daniels. "To anarchy," he announced, and took a swig. He handed the bottle to Thrash.
"To anarchy."

Dolly and Doc were asleep in the back seat. Billy looked across at Thrash. They'd been driving in silence for fifty miles. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just feeling old."
Billy nodded sympathetically.
They drove another ten miles.
Billy chuckled. "Sure was a noisy sumbitch."
"Yeah," said Thrash. "Still..."
"Still what?" Billy was suddenly worried.
"Well, I was thinking," said Thrash. "We're only about two hundred miles from White Sands Missile Base."
Billy abruptly lost control of his bowels.