A few years back, in San Francisco, I was awakened by yelling voices. I attempted to sleep through it, except the panicky shrieking of, “get out of the house, there’s a fire!” got me a little bit motivated.
I bolted out to the porch (with no thought of the cats, by the way) and could see smoke pouring out of one of the Victorians up on Page Street. Okay, not my house, but bummer for those guys. Soon there were firemen scurrying around back of the house, and in what seemed like seconds after that, fire.
I watched in shocked amazement as that fire grew out of control. Minutes, this took. It took minutes for the fire to move to the house next door and start gutting that. Merely a few more minutes before the fire moved onto a third house and started working. It is shocking how fast a fire can move and how quickly it can destroy something.
I’ve watched a Ford Aerostar burn to the ground. It goes faster than you might think. This is a car that I set on fire – long story, I’ll tell it again later I’m sure. The thing is, for something that destroys so utterly, and so damn fast, I cannot help playing with fire like the dumb 5 year old I am…
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1 comment:
DUDE! That is way better than my plan of walking down the street with Roman Candles in both hands, shooting flaming balls willy nilly.
Now I can shoot flaming balls with a purpose!
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