Incendiary Interventions

On Saturday morning I started off in the car and drove to a camping store because I knew the company was having a rental-equipment sell-off. But when I got there, the annoying looking car-salesman-looking owner guy told me that this was not the right store, it was another location.

Ah well, I thought - I'll just browse about to see what I can see. After a little while of random poking around, I settled on a magnesium-steel firestarter stick. This was a small one, made in Germany. Perfect for lighting my new naptha-powered lantern and stove on my next camping trip, along with my campfire.

I then slowly made my way to the front of the store - searching about in the Alladin's Cave of a Camping Store - and placed the small package on the counter as my eyes darted about the various impulse purchase product racks assembled about on the counter. Then I pulled out my debit card. And as the owner guy swiped my card, he astonishingly - and without a smile - asked me if I was an arsonist.

Still looking about at the impulse-purchase racks, I casually replied "Do you think I'd tell you if I was?" and dryly met his eyes. He quickly went back to ringing in my purchase, without saying anything else, and moments later I left the store.

Earlier this evening I put a stuffed chicken - sprinkled with pepper and salt - into the oven. The oven was hot inside - I'd turned a plastic ring earlier to make it so.

For the next hour and a bit this made the chicken hot on the inside and the outside. That made the really small chickeny molecules dance differently than the way they had grown accustomed to during the life and the brief unheated post-mortem period of the chicken's body, and turn into different molecules and bind together and split apart - and this caused it to smell nice and look like a roasted chicken.

I gently dissected it into the right parts after it had cooled for a little, and then Spring and I ate it.

I dissected a cat in grade 13 biology. I worked as a butcher during university. I have substantial dissection training, after all.

Today I put Monty into his harness and put him and myself outside in the Music Garden - as it is called - and put ourselves down the path for a while and eventually I put ourselves at a location near some scratchy looking dried weeds.

I put a handful of this stuff into my hands, and rolled it all up and together until I had a nice tidy tinder bundle - all in breathless anticipation of testing out my new magensium-steel firestarter stick.

But then the atmosphere put a large volume of itself into the space Monty and I were occupying in a very short time span and I decided that it was too windy to try to start a small fire in the park. So I resolved to start a fire on a day when the atmosphere was not feeling so shifty.

It is worth noting - however - that I am not an arsonist.

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