Mike Lee.org - Weekly Random Rambles, Musings & Writings of Mike Lee

I'm not sure what possessed me to light that bush on fire.

Maybe it was because I knew where my Mom kept the matches. That's just about all the reason an adolescent male needs to light anything on fire.

It was a sunny afternoon. My brother and I were playing in the yard. We were having a war with our G.I. Joe figures. Cobra Commander and his forces were all set up on the Western side of the garden, while the G.I. Joe troops infiltrated from the East.

Then we got bored and wandered into the kitchen.

My brother got some juice. I poked through some drawers and, for some reason, took out a box of matches.

"Cool, look, matches!" I declared. My brother nodded in wide-eyed anticipation.

We went back outside. Right alongside our house was a row of bushes. Since it was summertime, the bushes were nice and dry. And flammable.

I had seen my parents light matches before, though this was the first time I'd ever held them in my hands. The match didn't light immediately. I had to strike it a few times before it finally caught.

I held its flame under a branch. First, it started to smoke. Then, a sliver of yellow and orange glowed. We heard a crackle and pop.

Finally, a proud flame sprouted on the branch.

My brother and I watched in reverent silence. It was so cool.

Then the flame jumped to some neighboring branches, then more branches, then even more branches.

"Uh oh…"

My brother and I exchanged glances. For a moment, the world stopped. Images of angry parents and spankings and groundings rang through our heads.

"Uh oh!"

We ran back into the kitchen and started filling up cups with water. By the time we ran back to the bush, the flame had grown significantly. It was almost as high as the door. Thick smoke was puffing into the sky.

Our meager cups of water did nothing to slow it down. But we tried anyway. Two, four, six, eight cups. All worthless.

"What are you guys doing over there?" our mother yelled from another room in the house.

"Um, just playing!" I lied.

"Stop running around so much. You're going to break something."

"Okay Mom!"

The fire was dangerously close to our house now. Then, in a strange moment of clarity, I ran around the house to get the hose. My brother and I lugged it over as fast as we could.

The generous stream of water did the trick. We showered the burning bush with sweet, sweet water. The smoke turned black and continued to puff. But the fire subsided down to a whimper. Disaster averted!

"Are you using the hose?" our mother yelled.

We quickly dropped the hose and ran into the house.

"We were just playing!" I repeated.

She came into the kitchen. My brother and I stood there, motionless, and with the best We-Didn't-Do-It smiles we could muster.

She eyed us suspiciously. "I could hear you running around like crazy here. Be careful, or you're going to break something."

"Okay, Mom."

She nodded, then left.

My brother and I looked at each other again. Then we looked outside at the smoldering remains of the bush. And we both had the same thought:

"We got away with it. We didn't get in trouble! That fire was so cool! What can we burn next? Muhahahaha!"

Did you ever play with matches when you were a kid?