Fire

Some uninviting rich bitch has her friends and us older kids over to her pacific heights mansion. Everybody’s looking at everybody else. Except me. I’m in the basement looking at her dad’s wine and Bentley collection. Choose two bottles. Worth more than everything i’ve bought in the last 6 years. I get some friends to help pass around the bottles. We find some eyeliner and rock shots on her bathroom mirror. Many slurry, smokey, stumbling hours later. It just the troopers sticking it out upstairs, in the back, and in the bedrooms. Laura comes tearing down the stairs. There is a fire. Get out. Fuck off. Call 911 She’s serious. .I hear exploding glass. Twisting through the house to the front door, I get lost. Find the kitchen. Grab an onion. Fire crew flooding the house, breaking almost all the windows for giggles. I get outside. Flames leaping up and out of the windows. The girl whose parents own the house is mumbling about her parents italian vacation between vomiting and crying on her warm front lawn at two thirty five a.m. with the two guys still trying to serve it with her on each of her sides. One and a half million dollars in window, fire, and water damage while here parents were in italy. She’s disowned for a month or so. It was my good friend’s improperly extinguished cigarette that lit her top story ablaze. I saw a coyote in the middle of California and Divisidero on the walk home. Mischief in the flesh and fur.

ps problem's logging in until now