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When Gary took hold of things, he didn't like to let go. That's how it was with the fire. That's how the fire got out of control. Bobby told him to stop with the lighter fluid but Gary thought it looked cool. The flames whipping up like lascivious tongues, lapping at the wind. Gary said he saw God in the fire. He said the Virgin Mary was in there too, screaming to get out. That's when the fire jumped, leapt right over Bobby's head, grabbed hold of the wooden balcony above and didn't let go.
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1996 © 2007 |
When the fire trucks came, five of them, and the babies and the dogs and the women had all been rescued from the building, Gary sat on the curb, flicking his Zippo open and closed. Until they handcuffed him, shoved him in the back of the cruiser. That's when the sirens wailed like wounded dogs. And Gary thought it sounded cool.