by Kasey Shultz
“Mythbusters to end with final season.”-Entertainment Weekly
It always ends with an explosion.
A spray of beans breaking free from a heated can,
The exploding pants of a pesticide-covered dummy
Splashes of fruit painting the screen in the wake of a collision,
A cement truck of dynamite sending miles of ripples through the desert ground.
The explosions punctuated my life in regular intervals,
The soundtrack of my adolescence,
A shared vocabulary of awe.
Do you remember the one where they crushed a car between two semis?
Or the one where they made a rocket car?
Or when they tried to knock someone’s socks off?
Do you remember the one where they dropped a car out of a helicopter?
Or lit 500 pounds of coffee creamer on fire?
My brother could rattle off episodes the way I could list bible stories
A litany of confirmed, plausible, and busted,
An epic compilation of ‘Don’t try this at home,’
Where failure just meant it was time to break out the dynamite.
You would think the ideas would run dry after nearly 250 episodes,
That there could only be so many ways to explode,
So many myths to bust,
So much science we could handle
But we could never tire of the sight of two adults
Crouching behind bomb proof glass,
Eyes wide with terror and exhilaration
As a fireball erupts behind them.
Whatever myths remain,
Whatever we feel about this loss,
We know the show will end the way it always has.
With a bang.