The wind gently blew through the camp pine as the logs crackled and popped in the fire pit. After a long day of paddling, we all sat quietly, peacefully staring into the flames.
Next to Tim’s chair sat is small bottle of lighter fluid – fuel for his zippo and a helping hand for jumpstarting flames from wet wood.
So caught in the moment were we, that we hardly noticed Tim squirt a tablespoon of fluid from his bottle onto Ed’s foot. We also failed to notice a moment later as he squeezed a thin line from Ed’s foot into the campfire. As the flame jumped the trail and blazed to life on his shoe, Ed finally took notice and sprang into his freestyle fire dance.
As I recall, there was a chant involved, but if repeated here, it would only read a bunch of ****s.