Brief

After t' second launch o' me Estes Firestorm, t' rocket became tangled in a tree upon descent. Begad! Blimey! Because t' tree be on t' edge o' a clearin' and was hangin' from a small branch, shiver me timbers, I attempted t' get it back. Well, matey, blow me down! Blimey! This spanned a few weeks and involved everythin' from tryin' t' snag it with an extendable lightbulb-installin' pole t' attemptin' t' hook it with a fishin' rod. Well, blow me down! Blimey! Arrr! Blimey! Eventually t' shock cord gave way, shiver me timbers, causin' t' body tube and fin can t' drop. While t' body was rotted from several summer storms, ya bilge rat, t' fin can and launch lug were intact. T' nosecone, matey, however, shiver me timbers, ya bilge rat, was still stuck as t' parachute was firmly wound around t' branch. Avast, me proud beauty! Blimey! One day I headed over and began tossin' sticks up at it, ya bilge rat, me hearties, finally gettin' lucky and snappin' t' branch.