The Flamethrower, Pt. 3
November 20, 2010 10:28 pm StoriesRead Pt. 1 here and Pt. 2 here.
…
Brian was letting fourth one more volley when a large green Ford F250 King Cab came roaring into the driveway. The vehicle stopped short, a few feet from Brian, nearly hitting him. Brian’s father’s white knuckles could be seen through the windshield, his mouth making a large ‘O’ shape along with his eyes. Then the yelling began.
At first Brian ignored his father. He continued to shoot flames as though nothing was wrong! Brian’s father rolled the windows down. He screamed.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?”
There really was only one truly correct answer, and Brian gave it to him.
“What does it look like I’m doing!? Firing a flamethrower!”
Firing a flamethrower. Indeed, that’s what he was doing. He was being totally honest. But honesty is not always the best policy. Especially said with such contempt and while firing a homemade flamethrower in front of you father. Of course it’s a flamethrower! What does this look like? What else could it be? Duh dad! Wow. Couldn’t you tell? Idiot.
The other two looked on incredulously. This wasn’t over, and this wouldn’t end well for either of them.
“DROP IT! PUT IT OUT! OOOOHHHH WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Brian tossed the flamethrower to the side angrily. He had finally been defeated. All good things must come to an end.
“OOOH WHAT THE FUCK?! GET THAT SHIT AWAY FROM THE TRUCK ITS GOING TO CATCH ON FIRE GET IT AWAY FROM THE GAS TANK!”
Brian had thrown it near the silver pickup. Too close.
With all the commotion and confusion, he hadn’t even noticed how close in proximity it was to his pickup. Brian had thrown the flamethrower, towards the parked vehicles. It couldn’t have landed more than five feet away. He began to worry that a vehicle might be exploding for reals now. The soupy, charred carcass of the flamethrower burned on. Brian’s father began barking out orders at a rapid pace.
“MOVE THE TRUCK! GET THE HOSE AND PUT OUT THAT FIRE! YOU TWO GO WAIT INSIDE!”
He fumbled his keys and barely got the door open, shaking the entire time. He jumped in, slammed the clutch and brake, turned the key, and threw the truck into reverse. The pickup was now a safe distance from the three foot high flames. Brian casually walked over to the hose. Chris was already inside the house, waiting inside Brian’s room. The shock from earlier was nothing compared to how they felt now.
He went into the house. Chris was waiting for him. No eye contact. Muffled screams could be heard outside.
They were silent. Frozen. Awaiting trial. What could they say? Then he started laughing.
“I’m shooting a flame thrower? Did he really say that?”
Chris was petrified. Uncomfortable silence. He didn’t see the humor in all of this yet. If either of their parents found out, who knows how they might react. The consequences would no doubt be severe. Groundings? Suspended from sports? Would they ever be able to hang out again? No video games? No license? So many ways to get punished.
What seemed like hours passed. It was more like five minutes. Then the door flung open. Brian’s father stood in the doorway.
“I think it’s best if the two of you went home.”
“Yes sir.”
Short and to the point. But he didn’t budge from the doorway.
“I thought you guys were smarter than that! A flamethrower? You guys decided to build a flamethrower with a squirt gun?! You guys are lucky you didn’t get killed!”
What could they say? He was right. It was stupid. And awesome. But awesomely stupid.
Brian’s large and imposing father stepped aside. The two left the room and headed out the door. Brian was still tending to the remains outside. They stopped to see the damage.
The ex-flamethrower was now almost completely flattened. Cartoon-like. The entire mess caught on fire and melted to the asphalt. It smelled like poison. It probably was.
“So your dad told us to leave.”
“Yeah, I told him not to tell your parents. I’ll see you guy tomorrow.”
Brian was incredible. Even after nearly killing everyone, including himself, nearly blowing up two vehicles, saying the dumbest thing he possibly could have when caught in the act of firing a homemade flamethrower, neither of their parents would potentially find out about any of this. Light at the end of the tunnel.
Chris hopped into the truck and they drove back to his place. The conversation ranged from somber to ecstatic as they went over the events of the previous hour. He dropped of Chris and he went home. They said their goodbyes and held their breath. Would their parents find out? Did they already know?
Two weeks passed. Brian took one for the team. He cut a deal with the devil for the sake of his friends. An extra grounding and taking all the blame. No one asked him to, that’s just the kind of guy he was. Plus, Brian’s father didn’t want to look like a fool, or that he had idiot kids with idiot friends. Who would he tell? Probably not even his wife. Embarrassing. They got caught. Lesson learned.
—
After the grounding, they were in Brian’s room again. Hanging out. It felt weird at first, like seeing an ex-girlfriend. Eventually, things were normal between them.
“Hey, I got something to show you guys!”
Brian reached up high, into a tall cupboard. The really tall one that required a step ladder to reach. He swung open the door and a familiar smell wafted into the room. It couldn’t be.
He fumbled around a bit and pulled out the charred remains of the super soaker. He kept the remains of the flamethrower.
Brian was always the sentimental type. They all knew they would have plenty more adventures in their future.