Shit’s Hot

I think it might have been around one thirty in the morning when I ate those, some wings and some potato skins and some onion rings, I mowed through about half the wings before realizing that my mouth had caught on fire and my dad had to run up the stairs with a fire-hose to put it out, mom panicking and the neighbors all crowding over to find out what all the ruckus was all about, the strength of the hose had blasted a hole clear through to the neighbor’s kitchen while they were eating dinner, Mr. Googleyschwartz is in the midst of forking his salad into his mouth with a piece of lettuce, half slice of tomato and a shard of red onion and a thick piece of bacon all stacked in a row on the fork’s four prongs, a man who knows how to eat a salad, and just as he opens his mouth slowly, from the inside of his mouth it looks like a cave opening up and a cartoony c-r-e-e-e-a-a-a-k sound happens as his teeth separates and light shines through, and suddenly from across the table, right over Jimmy the second grade kid’s head, a piece of drywall in the shape of Alaska shoots out straight into Mr. Googleyschwartz’s face, Mrs. G.’s eyes widen, Jimmy turns his head, wondering what the noise is, sounding like q-u-a-s-h-h-h-h-h-h-i-c-k-i-t-t-a and Sally, the most popular but not so bright girl in school doesn’t even flinch as she texts her backup boyfriend about a Facebook chat party or something or other, and Mr. Googleyschwartz doesn’t have enough time to react, being too caught up in that perfect forkful of every salad ingredient, and luckily, Alaska misses his rectangular Frankenstein head but manages to clip his thick black rimmed square prescription eyeglasses and the fork at the same time, sending the fork to the wall behind Mr. W. and sticking into it BOYOYOING! with the lettuce, tomato, onion and bacon still pronged, and his eyeglasses landing on top of it in a spectacular stunt making Salad Nose Man without a mouth, and the drywall hits the wall explodes everywhere covering the family in white dust, and my dad turns off the hose, holding his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, trying not to let anyone know that he thinks what happened is hilarious, also a bit nervous, hoping everyone is alright, as soon as he finds that out he’ll be able to laugh it off, he’ll just pay for the wall no worries, let’s just hope he didn’t murder the neighbors is what he’s thinking, “What the hell?” Mr. G. yells, he sounds angry, but now that I think about it, he always sounds angry, can’t think of a time that I haven’t heard him angry about something, he walks his little wiener dog up and down the street every once in a while mumbling and grumbling and complaining about everything there is to complain about, and my dad, he just stands there still with his hand over his mouth, my mom’s finally like “Is everyone okay over there?” and we hear Mrs. G. respond, “Everyone’s alright…what’s going on over there?” and dad bursts out laughing, because now he knows that nobody is hurt and if nobody is hurt then it’s okay to laugh because it was kind of funny, anyone would have to admit that, and he tries to explain what happened but the laughter overtakes him and my mom has to take over, “Franky ate some buffalo wings, they were really hot, and his mouth caught on fire,” then my dad chimes in with his laughter in control now, “So naturally I grabbed the hose from the basement and you know, tried to put him out,” and now Mr. G. yells “What do you mean tried?” and my dad says “because he’s not all the way out yet,” and he’s right, I’m still covered in flames and someone’s either cooking bacon or…yeah I’m still on fire, and Mr. G. asks, or yells for that matter “Why the fuck didn’t you finish the job?” and dad says “That’s a good question,” …I’m still on fire… my dad continues “I wanted to make sure you guys were okay, so I had Johnson cut off the water so we could ask you, and Mr. G. says “Well turn the damn thing back on quick,” …I’m still on fire… – and my father says “Alright Johnson, fire it up!”, forgetting that Johnson takes everything literally, so Johnson’s in the basement and he hears dad say that, so he acts quickly and unlatches the fire-hose from the fire hydrant that dad had installed in our basement for these such occasions, and grabbed the red canister of gas for the lawn mower, and pours the whole thing in and grabs the blow torch, slides on the welder’s mask and fires it up, sending a ball of flame out at me and into the Googleyschwartz’s house setting us all on fire, running around like maniacs, dad still laughing, because you have to admit it still is pretty funny aside from the blistering pain and all, still funny with us all running around like chickens with our heads cut off, still funny just like how watching a man run around on fire is still funny if you know it’s not real, still funny like watching yourself run around on fire and knowing that it is real, funny because it doesn’t make sense, funny because how can you be watching yourself run around on fire, funny as in an outer body experience of some sorts, and we’re all still on fire when suddenly everything gets real dark, a big shadow looms over, and from above us a giant hand holding a bucket swoops over and dumps a waterfall of water all over us.

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2 Responses to Shit’s Hot

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