pop-rocks 
2003 Reader Submission
Pending Acceptance
Tooele,UT (1996)- Ingredients; 1 boring town, 2 canyons, a group teen-age idiots, and a partridge in a pear tree. It was about midnight by the time my friends and I had the idea to have a bon-fire in the canyon. Our canyon of choice had recently been given a toll booth which closes at nine, so we opted for middle canyon instead. Both are right next to town anyway. Once there, we had little time for such trivial things as safety. We brought news papers and a gas can with about a half gallon of gas in it, courtesy of our friend “D”, to hastily put together a lord of the flies worthy blaze.
As if the initial ignition of a seven foot flame didn’t hint of disaster, handing over the rest of the gas to our other friend, aptly named “Crazy Bobby”, should have. He playfully dowsed the flames on occasion raising them for a second, with the standard oooh's and ahhs. It didn’t take very long before Giddy Bobby brought the can too close to the flames and pulled back a can with a flaming nozzle. In panic he drops the can… in the fire. We all bolt for a tree for safety, waiting for the can to explode, and end up watching in dead silence as the can melts. Out in the blackness we hear a faint whimper from D as he says, “ That’s my dads.”
After a minute we figured the can would not explode and fished it out of the inferno and off to the side just in time for a cop car to pass by. The officer stopped and asked what we were doing, since most of the campers had already bedded down for the night and we were obviously minors in a potential party situation. As we assured him nothing was going on out of the ordinary, the cars head-lights were trained on a bush that the smoldering gas can was next to. Thankfully no one noticed and he left.
Now, here is the clincher, when we settled down D informed us about the events of the night before, when he and a couple others went to Settlement canyon, The one with the toll booth. They camped next to the stream and had the same idea we did, surprise, surprise. The difference is, they had more fuel. At one point, Big John took a few minutes soaking a small log with fuel from the same gas-can. He was doing this only a foot away from the fire, and dispite warnings he assured them he knew what he was doing.
As I said before, they camped near the stream. The stones around it sometimes have water vapor in them, and once hot enough on occasion a few pop. A couple of these stones were used as outer-ring boarders to keep the fire contained, how ironic. One blew and a couple glowing embers landed on the log. It ignited and also lit the can in Johns hand. He, however, immediately threw the can into the shallow stream next to them where gas trickled down stream leaving a burning river and a trail of fire leading to it. D dived into the water intent not to let the blasé continue down stream or loose his dads container. He threw the can on the other side of the creak, effectively lighting that side on fire as well.
While John tended to his cherry red hands, D put out the can before any damage came to it and tended to his right hand which was burnt (from the fire water around the can). They successfully put out the small fires before anything happened and saved the can (until the next night).
On a final note, later the pyromaniac of the group, Kevin, made a small circle of gas around him and lit it to finish the night. He made the radius too small and singed his leg hair.
I know this story to be the truth because I saw Big John the next day with his sun burnt, hairless hands and everyone present that night confirmed it.
Oh, sure, this is certainly not a Darwin contender, but remember... third times a charm. Submitted on 07/15/2002
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