"Flames"

Today, at the food store, I bought a package of matches. I rarely use matches... but seeing the little boxes got me nostalgic, and so I bought them.

Later, I was hanging out with my brother and I went to light my cigarette. "Look! Michael Jackson!", I said bopping the lit match up and down. (Small chuckle from my brother) "Richard Pryor!" (smaller chuckle) Realizing his age (20) I then said "Great White!" and got, along with a laugh, a "That's so wrong!". I then said, "ok, it's not accurate, I'd have to light the whole box up." and chuckled myself.

Feeling a bit odd, I then (sort of) apologized and expressed my true feelings and fear about the whole incident... not wanting him (or the Gods, fates, or Scooby Doo) to misinterpret me (or, in the case of Scooby and friends, think that they had to make a point with me in some twisted cosmic way).

Some things shouldn't be joked about... this is true... so why do we? I don't know... maybe to take the edge off... maybe it's just grasping at straws for a laugh... or just maybe a little bit of both.


To stop and think about it for a moment... to put yourself in that club, that night... to feel the fun... then the confusion... then the push... then the heat...

to look behind you... to see the bright blaze... to hear the screams... to watch people incinerate... to feel yourself incinerate...


crackling

like being in a box of lit matches


then quiet


So, you force yourself to joke, rather than scream.