Ever noticed how fireworks can be compared to a bad lover?
You've got the ones that shoot their load within seconds of being lit. You watch to see if there's more. There isn't. He's done. He's rolling over, and you're left trying to hide your disappointment.
Then there's the ones that keep going and going, uneven thrusts into the air, going on doggedly, not taking into account your enjoyment while you lie beneath them thinking "just finish already!"
Then of course you've got the ones who think they're god's gift, firing off huge bangs, all noise and no detail.
*Sigh*
Thank god P's never been comparable to a firework.
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