The story begins with a grand celebration. A Prince and a Princess were getting married. The King, who loved pomp and circumstance, declared that this would be the most magnificent wedding in the world. He played the flute (badly), but everyone cheered because he was the King.
To end the night, a spectacular fireworks display was planned. The pyrotechnics were arranged in the royal garden. Among them were a Squib, a Roman Candle, a Catherine Wheel, and the star of our story: a tall, crimson Remarkable Rocket attached to a stick.
While waiting for midnight, the fireworks began to talk to each other. The little Squib was humble and excited about travelling through the air. The Roman Candle was philosophical. But the Rocket stood tall and silent, coughing to get attention before speaking.
'The world is certainly very fortunate,' the Rocket announced, 'that I am here to be let off.' He claimed he was the son of famous parents and that the entire wedding was actually organized just to honor him. This introduces the theme of extreme vanity found in Oscar Wilde stories.
When the Catherine Wheel suggested he should be happy for the Prince, the Rocket scoffed. 'I am not happy; I am sensitive!' he declared. In the Rocket’s mind, being 'sensitive' meant that everyone else should worry about him, while he cared for no one.
The wise Roman Candle warned him: 'You must keep yourself dry! If you get damp, you won't go off.' But the Rocket was too busy feeling sorry for himself. He imagined a tragic ending for the Prince and Princess and began to cry real tears.
'I am going to weep,' said the Rocket, 'because I have such a rich imagination.' He cried so much that tears flowed down his stick and soaked his gunpowder. The other fireworks looked on in horror, but the Rocket thought his tears proved how deep and artistic he was.
Midnight struck! The Royal Pyrotechnician arrived with a torch. The show began. Bang! Whizz! The Squib danced in the air. The Roman Candle shot up beautifully. The Catherine Wheel spun like a golden disc. The crowd cheered in delight.
The Pyrotechnician put the torch to the Remarkable Rocket. But nothing happened. The gunpowder was too wet from his tears. The Rocket didn't realize he had failed. He thought, 'Ah, they are saving me for a grand finale. How distinct I am!'
The show ended. The workers came to clean up. 'What a bad rocket,' one said, and threw him over the castle wall into a muddy ditch. The Rocket, still delusional, thought, 'They have sent me to a health resort to recover my strength. How thoughtful!'
In the mud, the Rocket met a little Frog with bright jewel-like eyes. The Frog loved to talk about himself and his croaking choir. The Rocket was annoyed. 'You are very ill-bred,' the Rocket said. 'You talk only about yourself, whereas I want to talk about myself!'
They argued about who was more important. The Frog swam away, bored by the Rocket’s arrogance. 'He has no soul,' the Rocket muttered. 'He cannot appreciate my genius.' The satire here mirrors the story of Echo and Narcissus, where self-obsession leads to loneliness.
A Dragonfly flew by. The Rocket tried to impress him. 'I am a very remarkable Rocket,' he said. The Dragonfly didn't care and flew off. The Rocket decided that geniuses like him were destined to be lonely.
Next, a white Duck waddled over. The Duck was practical. 'What is your use?' she asked. 'Can you swim? Can you eat?' The Rocket was offended. 'I have a higher purpose! I am made for the sky!' The Duck decided he was useless and paddled away.
Two poor boys came running through the ditch looking for wood to boil their kettle. They found the Rocket. 'Look at this old stick!' one said. The Rocket was furious at being called a 'stick,' but then he thought, 'He means a Gold Stick! That is a high honor at court.'
The boys built a fire and placed the Rocket on top of it to boil their water. 'They are preparing a grand illumination for me in the daylight,' the Rocket thought. 'I shall go off and the sun will be jealous!'
The boys got tired of waiting for the water to boil. They curled up in the grass and fell fast asleep. There was no crowd. No King. No Prince. Just a muddy ditch and two sleeping children. But the heat was drying the Rocket’s gunpowder.
Suddenly—BANG! The Rocket finally went off. He shot into the air. 'I am going on forever!' he screamed. 'I shall set the sky on fire! The world will talk of nothing else!'
But nobody heard him. The boys were asleep. The King was busy. The only creature who saw him was a goose, who looked up and said, 'Good heavens! It is raining sticks,' as the Rocket’s stick fell back to earth.
The Rocket fizzled out and landed in the mud. He was destroyed, unseen and unheard. Yet, in his final moment, he thought, 'I have created a sensation.' The story ends with the ultimate irony: he died as vain as he lived, never understanding his own failure.
