Come on Baby Light Me on Fire

22 Aug

Looks just like me from the neck down

The other day I sat on the couch where Jennifer was watching some kind of nonsense on TV. I sat there for a minute, bored, and then I burped. (I mention the burp only because I’m not sure if it had anything to do with what happened next.) I then saw smoke or steam or other white, wispy, transparent substance emanating from below my sight line. Simultaneously, I smelled something burning.

I don’t smoke cigarettes, cigars, marijuana, crack, dried snake skins, Ska Maria Pastora, or anything else, but I do burn stuff in the kitchen in the name of “cooking,” so my first thought was that a flaming broccoli floret had been smoldering in my pocket and now had officially and tragically caught fire.

I jumped up and, well, acted like a man who’s just realized he’s on fire. I slapped at myself–focusing on my clothing–with the energy and speed of a hummingbird. If I had better aerodynamics I might have lifted off the floor and hovered for a moment.

I settled when I realized I was not standing in a puddle of my own melted flesh. I found no flaming vegetables in my pockets. I found no black-rimmed burn-holes in my t-shirt. I felt no pain. The smoke was gone. The room smelled of nothing but my embarrassment, which is remarkably similar to the smell of sweaty gym socks.

“WHAT … are you doing?” Jennifer asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just thought I was on fire there for a second.”

Of course, she laughed–ha, ha–but the sad thing is that I don’t think it would have mattered whether I was or was not on fire–she would have laughed just the same. Either I’m crazy or on fire, both are hilarious, I guess, according to her.

Okay, I can hear you thinking that I must be on drugs or something sinister. Stop it! I’m not. I swear. Not only do I refrain from smoking drugs, I don’t swallow, lick, or inject. I do not shove psychedelic mushrooms up my butt if that’s a “thing” nowadays. Really, I’m clean.

I also consider myself a skeptic and a firm non-believer in spontaneous human combustion. I don’t believe in ghosts or divine intervention (God wants me to burn BEFORE he sends me to hell!). So what’s left? I thought “Great, I’m now a paranoid schizophrenic,” but I read that these poor people have auditory hallucinations, not visual and olfactory like this nut-job.

All I do know is that I was not actually on fire and no matter what caused it–a goddamn brain tumor?–my wife thinks it’s freaking hilarious.

3 Responses to “Come on Baby Light Me on Fire”

  1. BLMoonlight August 25, 2012 at 7:44 pm #

    I’ve been following you almost three years and you never fail to bring me a smile! I started reading this not knowing what to expect and by the time I got to the middle I was in belly laughs. Your wonderful visuals seriously kick my funny bone!! Thank you!

    • fightn4it August 26, 2012 at 3:13 pm #

      Thanks so much! I’m thrilled that it made you laugh. I’m glad you shared that.

  2. MOM September 15, 2012 at 7:27 pm #

    belly laugh from MOM too!

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