Bonfire

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Sitting by the bonfire. People everywhere. Most intoxicated. I watch carefully their interactions. Some are full of confidence and charisma; some are sitting alone, by themselves. I can smell the moist pine needles burning, because someone decided to through a branch in the fire. But that mistake was nothing compared to what happened later that night.

There is always that one person who does something so dumb, so idiotic, that you can’t help but watch and see what happens. And so in walks Larry. The one that wasn’t invited. He enters the party atmosphere masking his great disappointment with the smile of a newborn baby. He approaches everyone he knows, whether they like him or not. Once he realizes that he is not getting the attention he had hoped, he finds his way over to the bar. Drink after drink, shot after shot, Larry no longer cares about not being invited, in fact, he doesn’t even remember that. Stumbling and bumbling, slurring his words, Larry grabs the gasoline can and yells, “Not big enough!” I see him walking to the fire with the flammable canister, but everyone else is busy, no one will stop him. And now he’s unscrewing the cap, all I can do is sit and watch.





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