Thursday, March 7, 2013

Arson, a Bonafide Miracle

Firetop: fact or friction?

And my old lady says I got through two wiener wrappers AND an insectomy.”

“Wow.”

“Yuh.”

“What an insectomy?”

“Don’t you know nothin, Dirtball?”

“I know some stuff.”

“Says you.”

“Just tell me already.”

“Nuh uh. I could get in trouble.”

“Oh come on. Your mom’s nice.”

Shit. Ain’t my old lady I’m worried bout.”

“Please?”

“Okay. But you didn’t hear this from me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“So the dad goes to the doctor, right? And he has him take off all his clothes and stand in front of a mirror and hold it straight up so it looks like a fire hydrant.”

“Umm-- so?”

“So then the doctor puts a wooden clothespin on it down at the bottom, you know...”

“What?”

“You know-- above the berries?”

“Berries. Got it.”

“And that keeps the babies away.”

“Oh.”

“Yuh.”

“So-- why do they call it an insectomy?”

“Hell should I know?”

“But-- don’t you have a little brother?”

“Yuh. So?”

“So what’d he go through?”

“Who cares? He’s a pain in the butt.”

“Yeah.”

“Yuh. Don’t matter none. I was the miracle.”

“You were?”

“Shit yuh. You should hear my old lady. PRAISE BE TO JESUS.”

“She say that alot?”

“Every morning just about seems like.”

“Weird.”

“Yuh. So how bout you shut up for once so I can think.”

“Sorry.”

“My old man says it a lot. When the old lady gets on about money.”

“Uh huh.”

“So you got the stuff?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.”

“Of all the--”

“I got this.”

“A jar.”

“I couln’t find a can.”

“Your dad don’t got one? You check the shed?”

“Can’t. It’s locked.”

“What’s this then?”

“Dad keeps it in the basement. Kerosene, I think.”

“It burn?”

“Lights a lamp pretty good.”

“Yuh?”

“And it burns, you know, for a long time. Thought that was better.”

“Guess so. C’mere and hold this.”

“You got matches?”

“Better. The old man’s lighter.”

“Wow.”

“Yuh.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Just pour it all over there and make sure you get it all around.”

“Over there?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But isn’t that awful close to Mr Zimmerman’s garage?”

“Yuh, so?”

“So won’t it, you know--”

“Yuh. That there’s the idea.”

“Umm, I dunno.”

“Just do it, Dirtball.”

“You swear we won’t get in trouble?”

“What?”

“Swear.”

“Sure. Whatever. I done it lotsa times.”

“How many?”

“How bout you do like my old man says.”

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