Some Flaming

Years ago, I was in a band.  I must have been around seventeen at the time... this would be around 1999 or 2000 or so.  We were called Charlie C-16, and we were pretty awful.  But, hey, it was fun.

My friend Squee wasn't much of a guitarist, but he liked hanging out with us while we practiced.  And he did try - he just had a terrible sense of rhythm.  I remember he'd get bored with the playing, and then get up to all sorts of trouble.  He'd tie our shoelaces to patch cords.  Or start throwing stuff at you when you weren't looking.

My personal favourite involved lighting people on fire. 

He had an aerosol spray can, and a lighter.  And he was very fond of making a flamethrower, and shooting it at you.  Usually your back, or your arm.  Of course, the aerosol burns off before the fire creates any heat, so you barely feel any warmth... it's just a weird effect to see your arm on fire for a second before it dies out.

I remember once, I was playing a guitar solo.  Back when I sucked (even more than I do now) at guitar solos.  We had been "jamming", and I tried ripping one out.  It wasn't a great solo, but it wasn't terrible, either.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see everyone watching me, a little shocked. 

"hell yeah!" I thought to myself.  "I'm the greatest guitarist who ever lived!"

The drums stopped playing.  The other guitarist stopped playing.  The bass faded out.  But I kept ripping on my guitar.  And then, I stopped.

Hands started patting me on the back.  Furiously.

That's when I smelled the burning cotton. 

Squee had lit me on fire during my solo.  And my shirt caught.  Apparently, most of my shirt was on fire during my awesome guitar riffage.  And it wasn't dying out.  I looked at the shirt afterwards - holes had been burnt through the fabric.

Squee stopped lighting people on fire after that.