The Time I Flashbanged Myself by Gage Banks

Have you ever felt true, genuine fear? Fear is a highly flammable can of paint that causes you to become disabled. During a bonfire with my friends, we all decided it would be a great idea to start throwing combustible objects into a fire. Gasoline, fireworks, etc. I chose a spray paint can. Because, you know, what else do you throw into a fire?

For clarification, I have thrown many things into a fire, but never have I ever walked towards the fire after the object in said fire had not exploded after a minute or so.I walked toward the possible shrapnel grenade and I began to poke it with a long stick. My friends were giving me a lot of, “what are you doing Gage? Stop moving Gage! Bro no! Stop!” Did I listen? No. That would make a boring story.

By the time the can hit the fire, we all dove for cover since it was a large can. A minute or two passed, no large boom, no shrapnel or flaming chunks of wood rocketing into the forest. “Something is wrong,” I thought to myself. Naturally, this is when I approached the bomb of a spraypaint can with a stick. After a couple prods and investigative looks, it imploded with enough force to shred through a few sheets of cheap paper. The sheer sound would’ve scared even something as mighty as a medium-large dog. “What the (f-word) were you thinking bro?” Said Jeff, who was cowering behind a pile of wood like a coward would cower. 

“I don’t know, Jeff, just being a straight G, I guess,” said me.

            I said this to Jeff, as if I did not just see the devil about to stab my eyes with a pitchfork. Rather, I did not just see the devil stab my already defective eyes.

Just like that, I am blind. No vision. “How many fingers am I holding up?” Jeff always did ask dumb questions. 

“I don’t know,” I said, facing the opposite direction. I could’ve been stabbed by a piece of flying metal, and I wouldn’t even know it because I was blind. I turned in the direction I imagined my friends were probably in, “oh man,” I remember saying, “this sucks.” 

My friends were not laughing and in fact saying things like, “dude holy hell what the heck,” and “why did we let him do that.” Screams of absolute chaos ensued which confused me a bit as I couldn’t see why they were screaming. Eventually I figured out it was because there were chunks of wood flying through the air landing in the forest, and so began the egg hunt. The wood was also on fire, if that wasn’t clear. Not to mention the red-hot shrapnel also possibly burning down the entire forest.

It was pitch black outside at this time, no moon because the clouds covered it. Four people scrambled in the woods with makeshift ‘grabbers’ trying to prevent a forest fire. We found no flaming chunks of wood, sadly, but we did find a cool Big Gulp cup from 7-11. Win-lose situations are always good. After the panicked moment of not being able to see and finding out my property is likely going to burn down, we burned the Big Gulp cup in the fire as a victory lap. And come the fourth of July, we did it all again, but this time with mortar fireworks and many other ‘do not throw into a fire’ items. One time an air conditioner was pummeled with a hammer and then burnt.

           On the topic of air conditioners being pummeled and burnt, my word(s) of advice is to not do it. After piercing the air box with a pickaxe for some reason, not even god knows, smelly air began shooting out of the hole, which my two step brothers responded to with trying to inhale it, and then immediately saying, “this is bad air.” Completely unrelated to the story at hand, but that is just a warning.
           Anyways, besides being scolded and asked many questions by the neighboring adults and hearing a lot of “kids these days,” definitely worth risking vision. Echolocation is always an option. Moral of the story: If you’re going to throw something into a fire and it doesn’t explode after a moment or so, poke it with a stick. The festivities to follow are never ending.

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