Firestarter
OK, I've just had a premonition that I'm going to die. OK, well, we're all going to die, of course, some day. I mean, I know how it's going to happen for me. And I'm not liking my final destination one bit, no, not at all...
At least once every few months, my father takes it upon himself to try to burn the house down. It just happened again. The arsonist in him doesn't get his kicks from fast and furious action with kerosene but instead puts a pot of something over the stove to simmer and slowly smokes us out.
How many times have I been woken up or returned home to find the flat blanketed in an etheral clouded state, the necrotic stink of burnt food permeating the air. I find in the kitchen the stove turned on with the pot smouldering away and smoking like nobody's business.
And where is Dad? Either taking a nap or having popped downstairs, conveniently forgotten about whatever it was he was cooking.
And when we raise the issue (albeit with raised voices, but appropriately and deservingly so, no?), he refutes that he didn't want it to happen. That excuse would have been accepted the first time, maybe the second, and possibly a third. But this has been countless times since!
I'll let you know when to come to my wake and funeral. But it will be a closed casket. I'm not going to look good with 100% 6th degree burns.
Now, if you'd excuse me, I have to go take a 2-hour shower to wash the smell out of my pores...
At least once every few months, my father takes it upon himself to try to burn the house down. It just happened again. The arsonist in him doesn't get his kicks from fast and furious action with kerosene but instead puts a pot of something over the stove to simmer and slowly smokes us out.
How many times have I been woken up or returned home to find the flat blanketed in an etheral clouded state, the necrotic stink of burnt food permeating the air. I find in the kitchen the stove turned on with the pot smouldering away and smoking like nobody's business.
And where is Dad? Either taking a nap or having popped downstairs, conveniently forgotten about whatever it was he was cooking.
And when we raise the issue (albeit with raised voices, but appropriately and deservingly so, no?), he refutes that he didn't want it to happen. That excuse would have been accepted the first time, maybe the second, and possibly a third. But this has been countless times since!
I'll let you know when to come to my wake and funeral. But it will be a closed casket. I'm not going to look good with 100% 6th degree burns.
Now, if you'd excuse me, I have to go take a 2-hour shower to wash the smell out of my pores...