Episode 6: Rednecks LOVE Fire!
This is not a morality play. In fact, I come from a proud line of fire-bugs, pyromaniacs, and explosives experts. Heck, what separates us from the Geico Caveman is the ability to get a good deal on car insurance…and make FIRE! My credentials as a pyro go far beyond my excellent Beavis imitation “FIRE! FIRE”!! Sorry, got a little excited there. My primordial urge to burn things goes back to 1975 when I used to light matches in a cardboard school lunch box for fun on the top bunk bed in my bedroom late at night. Not to be outdone, my brother simply lit the bed on fire. The orange glow was appealing; and briefly the warm glow was a welcome change to the normally freezing conditions in my room. Needless to say I was grounded for a month and had to cut off my right hand as punishment. My brother was treated to ice cream. I’m NOT bitter!
My point is, you don’t have to be a redneck or even live in Willis to love fire, but it helps! In the Fall everyone from Leafblower Man, to Action Man (another story) to the Society Against Environmental Waste (SAW) has a leaf fire going. The smoke creates a three-week screen which makes Willis invisible to radar and satellite probes. The Pentagon is looking into the military application of this phenomenon.
There IS something in the air in Willis that gives one an uncontrollable urge to create a massive fire or explosion. When I first moved to Willis, I decided I needed to burn some boxes in a 55 gallon drum. I added the boxes, sticks, lighter fluid, firecrackers, old used oil, and a small amount of white gas, say 2 cups full. Then, because safety is important, I stood back about six feet, filled my squirt gun with gasoline, pumped a stream of petrol at the drum full of boxes and lit a match. BOOOOOM!!! Everything went white for a moment. I remember my ears screaming in pain as the echo clap of thunder was released from the barrel. The aftershock was unexpected. Probably a 6.2 on the Richter scale... I was thrown across the yard like Captain Kirk on the deck of the Enterprise whenever the Klingons attacked. When I looked up there was a mushroom cloud followed by a massive donut of white smoke. Sadly the concussive power of the explosion put out the fire before the boxes were burnt. It is good to know I could take down a jet if I needed to though. No, I am not starting an Al Qaeda cell even if I look like I am…Really!
However, this story isn’t about me…OH NO! My stained glass windows are wonderful to see at night. The glow from my neighbors’ fires flicker with a glow that is truly magical. One night John (see episode 3) decided to put the old couch, dining room table, pink flamingos, a hutch, a gazebo and the leftovers from a garage sale that nobody in their right mind would buy in a heap in his backyard. After pouring a gallon of gas on the couch, a small fire erupted. The blinding light from this blaze danced in reds and blues through my stained glass window alerting me to the need to close the windows of my house before I got smoke inhalation damage. When this task was done, I decided it was time to investigate. I wasn’t the only one! All of Willis had gathered outside to witness the opening of the Gates of Hell. Someone also called the fire department. My favorite portly fire rescue volunteer friend arrived first after just completing a dinner of smoky links and Budweisers. He unzipped his pants and tried to put the fire out himself but the roaring blaze quickly made him aware of his burning pubic hairs and he decided to call for backup. Thankfully the Augusta Township fire truck arrived and the massive roar of its white water canon locked into a battle with the towering inferno for control of John’s backyard. In the meantime flames were leaping the fence and the entire lawn was dancing with flames like Michael Flatley after a good night at the pub in Dublin. Honestly, I thought this incident was an anomaly. I was WRONG!!!
I have a neighbor whose garage is on my property line named Darrell. Darrell is married to his sister…I mean his wife is named Sissy. Whew! One day I was minding my own business, washing dishes when I heard a sound like the death throes of a 72 Opel in a station wagon demolition derby just after getting back-ended. It was Darrell’s riding lawnmower. This beauty should have been retired to the lawn mower bone yard back in 1981 but was saved by some hippie motorcycle gang who needed the muffler for something. When properly started this demonic machine is capable of more decibels than the Bee Gees after sucking helium for an hour. Anyway on this day, Sissy yelled at Darrell to go get gasoline for the demonic device that I will here after call Moloch the Deathbringer for no other reason than it is an accurate description. Darrell for some reason that will only be apparent to him and his “Fun” decided to drag a burning log off of the ever-burning fire pit he built and toss it into the bed of dry spruce needles under his spruce tree before leaving to get gas. Meanwhile, Sissy jumped on Moloch with her newborn baby under her arm and proceeded to mow the grass. Ever so slowly as Sissy and Moloch made laps around the yard, the flames from the smoldering log began to grow like unwanted guests at a free keg party. After the 2nd pass the flames from this spruce fire were knee-high level. Sissy gave the fire an intense deer-in-the-headlights glare and Moloch belched its approval. On the 3rd pass the flames were spreading across the yard and making an eager smacking sound and the spruce needles were rapidly consumed. Sissy ignored this, Moloch fanned the flames with his mufflerless exhaust, and I dropped the dish washing task and made a mad rush for the water hose. On the 4th pass as I cranked the facet for the garden hose to full, Sissy and Moloch did their best to ignore the flames climbing the spruce tree and spreading into my yard. “BLEEECKKKABAMMMM!”, Moloch belched. “HISSSSSSSSSSSSS” the flames protested as I began my battle to control this inferno. That massive mound of fire-rescue volunteer Southern Baptist tormentor I know and love so well would have been jealous at my fire-fighting skills. After ten minutes and four more passes by Sissy, baby and Moloch the flames were under control. Moloch the Deathbringer came to a death-rattling stop at this point and Sissy proclaimed, “Thanks Dean, I was wondering if I should do something about that little fire”. “Anytime” was all I could manage to utter.
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Episode 5: Rednecks Hate Trees Motivation: Sarah Palin can't outrun me! I'm a Runner: Dean Stevens The former sane person opens up about his running life and explains why he's still on the trail. By Dan Simmons Occupation: bean counter Age: 41 Residence: Willis, Michigan When did you start running? My dad used to chase me around the house with a beer bottle. I must have been three. Do you remember your first race? Yes, I was three and I did not get caught. My brother however suffered a massive head wound from the beer bottle. So you grew up running with your siblings? I had a brother but he suffered severe head trauma and ran for governor of Alaska but lost to Sarah Palin. Sounds like your skills were more suited to basketball? Sorry, white men can’t jump. Our basketball tournaments were more like football games with a concrete courtyard. And running was your first athletic activity, even before basketball? My first athletic activity was fishing. Then I learned how to dodge beer bottles. Running was a natural extension of those activities. Was there ever a period when you didn't run? Once, I had a bunion but that never stopped me. Dodging my dad’s tirades teaches one to ignore pain. If you go a day or a week without running, what do you learn about yourself? You know I play badminton too… Did you raise that issue, and put the ultimatum down that you needed to run? Actually running while playing badminton is a great way to stay fit. Tell me about a memorable run during the campaign that really stands out. Once I ran across the living room to put my foot through the television set when Brit Hume states that McCain had picked Sarah Palin to be VP. I don't remember news reports about it. Sarah Palin shouldn’t be on the news. If you are talking about me attacking the television it only made local Willis news. So the Secret Service guys kept silent? The Secret Service isn’t the only group watching me closely. Nobody is to know. Tell me about running in Alaska. First you put one foot in front of the other. Then you start at a trot. Before you know it you are jogging. I run to show off that I can go even faster. Running in Alaska is the same as running elsewhere but you have to defrost your gonads first if you are still wearing shorts. What was your coldest run? I was walking through the swamp outside near Newport, Michigan and fell through the ice. The wind was 30 mph so I had to run top speed all the way home to keep my blue jeans from freezing stiff on my legs. That was pretty cold. How do you prepare for a run when it's that cold? You can’t prepare for something like that but I will let you in on a secret. After a 5th of J.D. you forget your can’t feel your gonads anymore. You also forget how to run. Even still you try to get in a run every day, even in Fairbanks? Hell, I’d run anywhere they have a box of chocolates and lots of varieties of shrimp. Do you ever run on a treadmill? I do not run on a treadmill. I do not like them Dan the man. I do not like them in the fall. I do not like them at the mall. Frankly I despise them in every way. NEXT QUESTION! Any shoe preference? How did you find out about my shoe fetish? Cute Gucci pumps with lots of lace or maybe some Thom McCann buckle shoes in brown leather. Ever been attacked by an animal out in the wilds of Alaska? I was attacked by a Caribou once while peeing but now if I go to Alaska I make sure I have my rocket launcher and an Apache helicopter. Do you wear jingle bells or is that just a tourist thing? WTF? What kind of% This is your new blog post. Click here and start typing, or drag in elements from the top bar. |
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