Playing With Fire

Standing with my pants around my ankles my two friends are near, I gasp for breath. With one on the ground holding his sides, the other standing with a bemused look on his face I pull up my pants as they burst into flames. I dive onto the gravel driveway and begin to roll around.

"ROLL AND DROP, STOP!" I couldn't see who yelled but judging by the laughter and gasps for air surrounding the words it was Carl, still holding his sides. I floated back to my feet as the flames grew closer to my face from my right pantleg. I tried to beat the flames back only to have them regrow some of the hair on my hands.

I stopped all movement as I watched the coffee can call back the flames it spread on the ground and bounce back into Gregs hand. The look of suprise was stripped by his face by the explosion of flame that was sucked back into the can.

Carl was no longer laughing as he pulled a stick out of the concotion that held the flame flickering every so gently on the tip. "Out went it, more some get me let." Words that didn't register as the three of us stood around playing with homemade napalm one drab, unsupervised Saturday afternoon.