The Flamethrower, Pt. 2

November 19, 2010 12:53 am Sir Haxington Stories

Read Flamethrower, Pt. 1 first.

…

The flamethrower became the regular topic of lunch discussion. When would they build it? Where would they get the fuel? Siphon it from a car? Would they go to the gas station? Would that look suspicious? Where would they shoot it? Brian’s? Would it even work? How dangerous could it possibly be? What would happen if they got caught?

The other lunch regulars thought the idea ranged from awesome to insane. That meant it was only a matter of time until this incredible and truly unique idea could be born into the universe. Were they the first to think of it? Pioneers!

—

It was a Saturday afternoon. Brian’s parents were gone during the day, as usual. Mother was in another state. Father out on business for the day and wouldn’t be back until the late evening.

Fairly typical in that he picked up Chris from across town and then headed to Brian’s place in his silver chariot.

All three were sitting on the couch, watching TV. They had just fixed up some cheese and baloney sandwiches while drinking copious amounts of apple juice. Again, a fairly typical hang out session for teenagers with no parents home.

The time was right. It hit him. Flame on.

“Hey, when is your dad getting back?”

“Why?”

“You still have that super soaker right?”

They looked where it usually was, downstairs where the foster kids stayed. Nothing. They checked outside. Nothing. Where the fuck was it?

“The dumb foster kids were having a water fight a few days ago. They probably left it outside.”

They searched outside, on the deck, near the drive way. No stone left unturned. Empty handed.

“We could always go buy one…”

They didn’t want to spend their own money. They were jobless after all, and a $20 purchase was watched with great scrutiny by their respective parental units.

Just when they thought their dreams of building a plastic encased petrol projector had been melted, they went into the far reaches of the rather large yard, near the edge of the woods. Ahhh… there she was. Mischief managed. A little wet but ready for some action.

They still hadn’t fully planned out how they would fill the super soaker. Or what to fill it with exactly. They suddenly realized how unprepared they were for the entire operation. They took stock of the situation.

“I think my dad has some boat gas in the garage. You guys run up stairs and get some tape, some toilet paper, and a lighter.”

He ran and got the lighter from the kitchen drawer. Chris grabbed the entire roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. They ran back outside. Excitement building. T-minus 10 minutes until lift off.

Brian was crouched down in the garage, trying to figure how to open the gas can for fuel extraction. His back was turned and he was fiddling with the safety valve. He jumped six inches off the ground when they returned.

“Jesus! Fucking say something when you’re rolling up on me like that!”

Touchy. Not a good sign. Dad was out, but what if he came back early? What if the neighbors came home, drove by and reported what was going on? They were in the middle of the city after all. But none of it mattered. The objective was clear in their minds. It would happen.

The safety valve clicked. Success. Brian unscrewed the cap on the squirt gun and clumsily poured in the boat gas. The other two watched as Brian shakily spilled gas all over the ground, the squirt gun, and himself.

No one said a word. Tense.

They were now in the possession of one de-pressurized super soaker filled with gasoline usually reserved for outboard motors.

Brian grabbed the toilet paper roll and started pulling paper off the tube like he had a severe case of dysentery. He cleaned up the fuel covering his hands and covering ol’ Betsy. The last thing anyone wants is fuel on the surface of a flamethrower or on their bodies when this thing finally gets lit. Believe it or not, they were being mildly safety conscious in their infinite stupidity. Or maybe they didn’t like the smell of gas. Plus it’s stingy!

Time for an unlit test fire. Brian pumped it up a few times and let a stream rip into the drive way. An arc of gasoline flew through the air and splattered on the ground. Yep, gas and water pretty much work the same way when placed into and shot out of a colorful and comically large squirt gun. Liquids are cool like that.

The basic mechanics functioned properly.  So far, no major hitches. It was now time to get with the serious. What is a flamethrower without flame?

Brian ripped another long string of paper from the roll and immediately began wrapping it around the fat tip of the squirt gun. Chris handed him the scotch tape and Brian fixed the paper into place.

It looked like a total train wreck. One inch thick of standard two-ply was poorly wound and taped to the end of the squirt gun. Would it really work? Skepticism and worry were finally setting in as they assessed their handiwork. They had come this far and there was no turning back. Why they didn’t try one last test fire with the ‘pilot light’ intact is one of the many great unanswered questions this universe has posed to humanity.

T-minus 30 seconds.

He handed Brian the lighter. They backed away. An image flashed into his mind of his truck, not more than 15 feet from where they were standing, catching on fire and exploding from a potential mishap. The excitement of what would no doubt be an epic tale, no matter the outcome, wiped any possible worries away. This would happen.

Brian slowly pumped the super soaker until it started hissing. Pressure at 100%. T-minus 10 seconds until lift off. Brian started laughing.

A naked super model could have walked by and their gaze wouldn’t have been broken from what was in Brian’s hands. He pulled the lighter out of his pocket, awkwardly held the squirt gun as far from his face as he could and lit the makeshift pilot light. Swaths of toilet paper immediately caught on fire, turned to ash and fluttered to the ground.

With only a short window for success, Brian quickly spun around, aimed into the air at an upwards angle and fired. Lift off.

It was bad ass.

A burst of flame ripped across the sky. Fwwwoooooosh! Then another as he squeezed and let go of the trigger. It looked like the movies, except better. At first, they were shocked. Shocked that it had worked at all. Shocked that no one had been hurt. Shocked they were getting away with it. Tingles. Laughing. Yelling. Just think of the stories they’ll be able to tell! Jake is going to freak! When we tell the girls, they’ll think we’re so awesome! Maybe we’ll show them and impress them! We’ll bring them over tonight!

Brian let loose another volley. A cone of flame shot high into the air, hung, fell, then dissipated before touching the ground. He started becoming visibly nervous as the pilot light burnt wildly out of control and rapidly fell apart. However, Brian decided to continue firing. So confident in his newly found abilities as a flammenwerfer that he re-pressurized the chamber by pumping the charge handle while holding the trigger. At one point he almost burned his hand, but quickly moved it from the pump and returned it to the stock. The other two were laughing and screaming, high on adrenaline from what they were witnessing. The monkeys were out of the cage.

Things were starting to get messy. Falling apart. They hadn’t planned for what would happen if their plan actually worked. They never thought it would get this far. They knew it would work, but not this well.

But all good things must come to an end. The next series of events came in rapid blur.

Brian was still arcing flames high into the air when a short gust of wind surprised them. The flames, instead of falling towards the ground like they had for the past 30 or so seconds, blew directly at him. Instinctively, he covered his face and flung the flamethrower out with his right arm. It clattered to the ground a few feet away. Without worrying that a canister of pressurized gasoline was now sitting on the ground in a pool of fire, Brian dove down, picked it up, and began firing again! They couldn’t believe it! They all started yelling at once. Put it out! Drop it! Throw it! Holy fuck! The realization that they hadn’t readied a hose for this project started sinking in.

Into the air more flames went, but this time… something was off. The end of the squirt gun was now melting and gas was no longer coming out in smooth jets, but instead in a fine mist. Very dangerous. This, combined with more wind, and Brian’s complete disregard for his well being, was getting out of control. The other two were now very worried, even if this was all an amazing spectacle. A tale for the ages.

More wind blew more flames into even more dangerous places. Trees. Bushes. Nearer to vehicles. Entropy was definitely setting it. It was all about to end in a terrible way. A completely hilarious way. Probably the best way as Brian had no intention of stopping, short of a complete catastrophe.

…

Pt. 3 right here silly!