but it sucked…

Sunday we built a rocket in honor of Mr. Wizard, who died last week. He was 89 years old, which is pretty old for an old man. We wanted to let him know that we remember him and can still use his science tricks. Also we wanted to shoot [...]]]>

but it sucked…

Sunday we built a rocket in honor of Mr. Wizard, who died last week. He was 89 years old, which is pretty old for an old man. We wanted to let him know that we remember him and can still use his science tricks. Also we wanted to shoot off a rocket. But science, ladies and germs, is harder than it looks.

Patrick found simple instructions online. Tape a construction paper rocket to a film canister, combine baking soda and vinegar in the canister, close it, set the rocket down, boom! Eight-year-olds commented that their rockets went, like, 50 feet in the air. So we knew we could make ours go at least, like, 500 feet…

Assembly went smoothly.

We signed our names so when the rocket shot all up into heaven, Mr. Wizard would know these doggs got his back.

This rocket was ready to rock.

We moved this bad-ass piece of handmade craftsmanship to the front yard, so the colossal blast wouldn’t be blocked by trees or power lines. We didn’t want to knock out power to the neighborhood or nothin’. So we’re all set up, we’ve got the baking soda open, the cameras are rolling, and drip…drip…drip drip drip DRIPDRIPDRIP.
It is fucking raining.

Boooo.

So we took a…yes…I’m going to say it….we took a…..RAINCHECK.

A few minutes went by, and the sky cleared up. Looked like Mr. Wizard had one more weather trick up his sleeve. Alright, all systems go.

Baking soda……………………………………….vinegar…………………………….close the canister…

………..AND………..

Nothing.

Baking soda fizzed everywhere, and that was it. OK, we said. Must have been too much baking soda. Or too much vinegar. Or we didn’t get the cap on fast enough. Whatever it is, it’s a simple solution and we can fix it and we can make this damn rocket fly a million feet in the air.

So we kept trying. Ten, fifteen times. The rocket got soaked.

Every time, the same result: no liftoff.

Our spirits, too, were going limp.

And eventually, they broke.

We were sad. Look at the sad face.

If anyone would like to stage a funeral for Mr. Wizard’s Dead Rocket, I’m sure that it would appreciate one. I think we are going to bury it in the back yard. Or, maybe, we will build a cannon, and shoot this sorry piece of shit off in THAT.

R.I.P.