Fire Fighting

Fire Fighting

Firstly I’m not a fire fighter, but I did put out the raging inferno when my bathroom and bedroom decided to combust due to an electrical fire. Firstly be sober. I was so messed up I couldn’t believe I did it. I awoke to me dog Arnold, rest in peace bro see you at the end of the bar, punching me in the face barking “Wake up Bitch the house is on fire”. Suck on that LassieArnold drank vodka, smoked weed, saved my life and lived to 23! I put him out into the hallway and was so fucked up I checked the oven. To my surprise, it was not on fire. I walked into my bed room which was full of smoke to open a window & let in some fresh air. This is when shit went wrong. Go rent the movie Back Draft and you will have an idea the scale of my screw up. In a millisecond the bathroom exploded, closing the door, then the wind started to get sucked inside and the bathroom door shattered as it was ripped back open by the in rushing air. With that force the bathroom window exploded and now the fire had all the air it wanted. I was fifteen feet from the bathroom door in the corner of my bed room. I watched a wall of fire expand into my bed room going from floor to ceiling wall to wall cornering me in my bedroom. This wall of fire kept coming across the room burning and throwing anything combustible. The wall of fire stopped a foot in front of me and everything in the room except the tiny corner I was in was destroyed. Then the ball of fire recedes back into the bathroom trying to burn into the apartment above me.

This is when the fire fighting began. I run to my sink where the extinguisher is stored. The first problem the bitch is still in the box. Box destroyed. The second problem is that it was one of those new fangled pieces of shit with a trigger on it. Now it was so smoky I couldn’t read the instructions on the box and I had pretty much destroyed it. I had to put the fire extinguisher up to my eye and I saw a red plastic loop. Figuring this was the safety I pulled it not realizing I’m so freaked out I’m already pulling the trigger so I wasted half the can against the kitchen wall. Then I realized that I’ve got drugs all over my house and am on probation.

In my crime ridden town the standard operating procedure for emergency vehicles is wait for the cops before aiding to protect the firemen and ambulance crews. So us criminals know that where the fire department or ambulances go so go the fuzz. So drunk, high, and ripped on nitrous I decide jail for at least five years filled with shankings and ass fuckings or burning to death are my choices. I made the decision faster then the fire moved and I still stand by my decision. Fiery death before ass raping; always. I drop the extinguisher and start hiding bowls, bottles, buds, blunts, gas masks, papers, straws, razor blades and mirrors.

Do you know how hard it is hiding a four foot bong in a house that’s on fire? Hard, but realizing my trash in the kitchen was full I dug in bare handed and buried the bong. I put mirrors under the cushions, bowls behind the books, bongs behind the couches, drugs in the draws, and anything else got thrown in the fire making it worst. It was so smoky while searching the table I had to put my face inches from it and got so close I knocked over a beer with my face. I had to get breaths of fresh air under the coffee table. Also I’d like to include this is a bathroom fire. Body wash, after shave, rubbing alcohol, and even a half jug of bleach was now burning, suffocating me, and burning the crap out of my eyes. Then a bang at the door. In the words of Hunter S Thompson I said, “Many fine books have been written in prison.” and I open my front door. To my surprise it wasn’t a cop it was my neighbor who said these exact words to me while my house burns down around me. “Yo dude is my bong OK?” Shaking my head in disdain I said “Yeah mother fucker…” and before I could say more he takes off down the hall and out the building leaving me in a raging inferno I used to call home. I close the door and go back to looking for paraphernalia. At this point the fire is way out of control and I figured I had hidden most of the stuff. My eyes felt as if they were bleeding and I could barely breath so I felt it was a good time to leave and let the fire destroy the evidence. As soon as I left I made two terrible realizations. One I had just canceled my renters insurance. Two that my neighbor may be in his bedroom unable to get out because the fire had destroyed the floor in his hallway. Being a Gentleman and to poor too buy a new building I concluded to fight the fire.

I rushed back into the apartment looking for the fire extinguisher and of course didn’t remember where I had dropped it. Looking over the apartment again I realized that the smoke alarm is still going off and is annoying the fuck out of me and messing with my buzz. Tracking down the noise it was on the ceiling near the front door way out of my reach. Using a lacrosse stick I knocked it off the ceiling hoping to break it. Of course it doesn’t and goes flying across the house. I track it down and with the smoke blinding me I couldn’t figure out how to open it to remove the batteries. Saying fuck it I hummed that mother fucker into the brick wall shattering it and solving the noise problem. Simultaneously I noticed the fire extinguisher by my feet so I grabbed it and ran to the bathroom.

The gates of hell look more inviting then this bathroom. It was a room filled with fire, literally roaring at me and the only thing I’m wearing are coca cola pajama pants. Wasn’t even wearing boxers. Hot as the sun with a fever but luckily the drugs and alcohol were still going strong so I felt very little. Standing in the bathroom door, I pointed the fire extinguisher at the fire then suddenly the voice in my head said, “Heat rises fight the fire from bottom to top.” I thanked the voice in my head and the history channel for probably putting it in there and I opened fire. Sadly the voice in my head had not told be to get low when fighting the fire and when the juice came out of the extinguisher it displaced the fire around the bathroom up the wall across the ceiling and out the door I’m standing in. Every see the coyote on road runner when he burns his face with the rocket blast. Same thing happened to me with an apartment fire. For a thankfully brief second, my head was on fire. Not fun. Utterly pissed at the fire for burning my head I resolved to kill it. Now in a crouching position I opened up again on the beast, and to my surprise it was really easy to put out. I mean really easy. In the movies they are spraying, screaming, rolling, all kinds of exciting movie shit but when I shot that bitch it was kind of anti climatic. I had just enough juice to vanquish my fiery foe. So my mission accomplished, a burned face, lungs, eyes and my eyebrows missing in action I dipped out for a breath of fresh air. Going down the hallway I hear all this screaming barking and growling from many sources and I come out of the smoke to see my dog pinning one of the firemen to the ground trying to devour his face. Thank god for those fire suits and the two bigger firemen trying to protect their friend from the last thing they thought would injure them while fighting a fire. A loyal dog. I saw what was happening and said “Arnold stop it” and no sooner had I said it he stopped retracted the fangs and the tongue came out. He goes from Cujo to Lassie in a second and runs up to me. The firemen said, “Son you got a good dog it took all of us to keep him from going back in to get you.”

Now alleviated from controlling Cujo the firemen ask about the fire since it is obvious from my black ash covered skin, don’t forget I’m in only pajama pants, blood red eyes, singed hair, and now compulsive cough, that the fire originated in my house. I said you wont need your hoses, because they were ready to go with three fire trucks. They could have probably filled my house with water. A few minutes go by and the questions start. Knowing that if I said it was an electrical fire, which it was fucking slum lords, they would be investigating and probably trip over my bong. I knew there was no continuing threat since the short was destroyed and my breakers were off. I took full responsibility for the fire saying a candle was the cause. After that I got to be on T.V. I was fucked up drug wise and physically from the fire, my face chard black, coughing my ass off with half my hair gone and both my eyebrows. I testified to my fair city the importance of fire extinguishers.

What is there to learn from this? Well, since I did everything wrong, doing the opposite would be a good place to start. If it wasn’t for my dog Arnold, I’d be dead and would not have written this book. First, familiarize yourself with your fire extinguisher and remember they don’t have to just be for your house. Your neighbor screaming and burning to death because you couldn’t get to them would make anyone buy an extinguisher so get one for yourself, your children, your friend, and that hot girl down the street. You save her and she will owe you. Next know your smoke alarms, its functions, and location. If you don’t have one, get one. If you can’t afford it your local fire department should give you one. Next renters insurance. Look dumb asses, myself included, it cost me seven grand to pay for that fucking bathroom and I didn’t even start that fucking fire. It cost around 25 to 35 bucks a month for 25,000 of coverage. Get it don’t be a dumb shit because when your fighting a fire in your house that last thing you want to think of is that you will have to pay for all this damage.

3 thoughts on “Fire Fighting

  1. Yes on the renters insurance…I have that. It is actually required to rent an apartment here in California, I think. Or it just may be a requirement from my Apartment Complex but I have that and it really isn’t that expensive. I pay $13 a month.

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