A Fiery Kiss

Carson always liked flames.  He would joke Carson rhymes with arson.  Carson believed his red hair gave him a mystical connection to the fires he played with.  He always had a lighter on him, even though he didn’t smoke.  It wasn’t just a piece of crap Bic lighter either; it was a silver Zippo with diamonds set in the shape of the constellation of Orion on a black lacquered oval.  When asked about it, Carson would tell a different story each time about the lighter’s origins.  My favorite one was that he had won it from a space alien doing skateboard tricks.  To be honest, thinking about how clumsy Carson was, him skateboarding was more unbelievable than the space aliens.

Last week I wanted to try something.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but you know how it is.  Once a teenager gets an idea in his head, either they will act on it or it will drive them insane.  Or both could happen, which was my case.  Look, how much trouble could I get into trying to mix dry creamer and black powder.  I figure since they both burn so well separately, that the two together would be awesome.  Imagine the number of hits I would get on my YouTube channel.  I would be a rock star, at least for like four hours.

So I wanted to be safe, right?  I decided to put the mixture of black powder and creamer into a rubber glove.  I then pulled the glove down, tying it to a large stone.  I had a sword I ordered from a catalog that I would swing at the string, cutting it from about four feet away.  That seemed a pretty safe distance.  Swinging the sword low would also keep me below the fireball.  I was rather impressed with myself thinking of safety first.  The glove would then snap upward, throwing the two powders into the air.  I just needed an ignition source.  Then I remembered Carson and his lighter.  I gave him a quick call and poof he was there, just like a genie out of a lamp.

I proudly showed Carson my setup.  He was impressed, especially with the safety features I had built into the system.  I showed him where I thought he would place the lit Zippo on an old crappy birdbath.  I figured the flame would be gone in a flash and the lighter, being metal, would survive the flame.  I mean, it has a flame coming out of it like all the time.  What could a fleeting fireball do to it?

Carson was all in, except for one small thing.  Since he was risking his lighter, he wanted to be the one who slit the string with the sword.  I told him never mind.  I would get a different ignition source.  He then pointed out that I could take a better video if I was holding the camera.  He was right.  That whole shaky cam thing is so cool, especially when dealing with fire.  I agreed.

I primed the glove and checked everything a second time.  You can’t be too safe, right?  Carson lit the zippo and set it on the birdbath.  I then handed Carson the sword and stepped back.  I made sure that everything would be in frame and yelled action.

Carson’s backswing of the sword was a thing of beauty.  The swing forward had issues though.  I forgot how clumsy Carson was until that moment, and by then it was too late.  The sword pushed against the string at first, changing the angle of the glove, before finally shearing the strands.  By then the glove was pointed more at Carson, who didn’t have to duck as much since he was shorter than me.  The powders came flying out of the glove and ignited at the touch of the Zippo’s fiery kiss.  The flames continued forward and upward, engulfing Carson’s surprised face for a moment before the swoosh announced the fireball’s demise.

When my vision cleared, Carson had become a fire god.  His eyebrows were missing and his face was bright red from the first degree burns.  He screamed in pain.  I put the camera down on the picnic table, grabbed my bucket of water that I had set nearby just in case, and threw it in Carson’s face.

Carson breathed in a heavy amount of water and proceeded to gag and throw up on my sword.  He didn’t seem to be on fire though, so I considered it a small victory.  When Carson could speak he asked me if I got it.   I told him yes, and he danced a little happy dance through the pain.

I am now over three million hits on my YouTube channel and I split the ad revenue sixty five percent for me, 35 percent for him.  I think it’s fair since it was my idea, and I had to clean his vomit from my sword.  Oh, and we have gotten much closer since we had to do community service together, but that is another story.

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