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“Everything’s for burning,” he mischievously states on his way to the moving truck.
Yeah.
Those words are the reason my room is on the opposite side of the clubhouse from his.
The two of us hop in the back, uncap the metal holders, and begin dousing everything on opposite sides.
While I’d be fine doing this shit in silence, Flames is not.
Especially considering we’re in his element.
“You know where ‘proof’ originates?” he ponders over his shoulder as I fling sprinkles on top of the very crates I kicked earlier.
“No,” I quietly mumble, “but your ass is gonna tell me…”
“Back in the day,” Flames spews, excited motions threatening to get drops on us, “it was all about if the alcohol was strong enough to ignite gunpowder.” We both make sure to dribble drops onto the floor. “It was all about that sizzzzleee!”
Not sure any sane person should be this excited to burn shit down.
Then again.
Same could probably be said about bird watching.
Guess we really do all have our own shit.
“And did you know-”
“Just assume I never know.”
“-that it’s the vapors right above the alcohol, not the alcohol itself?”
We exit the back in tandem to douse the front next. “No.”
“And-”
“How is there more to this fucking conversation?”
“-you gotta be careful with your reg house shit too ‘cause a lot of that shit you think is safe is really just one spark away from becoming a Sean Paul song.”
Our arrival in the windows across from one another is when I toss him a second bewildered look. “What?”
“You don’t know that Sean Paul song ‘We Be Burnin’?!”
Rather than wait for an answer, he begins singing – or rapping shittily – with a thick accent while we empty the remaining liquid into the laps of the driver and the man riding shotgun.
Both look unhappy.
Only the passenger is wildly thrashing though.
Kegger – who is standing a bit back – lights his smoke on a crooked grin. “You’re just…shit at every accent then?”
Flames open mouth laughs during his stroll around to join our sides.
“You might wanna take a fucking class,” Keggers playfully suggests causing me to nervously grin.
Does he know?
He fucking shouldn’t.
