Gasoline and Uphostery
The active members of the Fraternity that I belonged to in college asked me for a favor the other day. They had an old couch that they wanted to dispose of, and, being the fine, upstanding young men that they are, they thought this could be an excuse for a party. Being the responsible adult I am, I responded with "Hell Yeah, I'll burn anthing!" And so the date was set.
Saturday night, a swarm of college students invaded my homestead and gathered around the fire pit where we had set up and prepared the couch. By prepared I mean that, while no one else was around, I had poured 1 gallon of gasoline onto the doomed piece of furniture (After all, I am a Boy Scout, and I understand the importance of a fire that lights and stays lit. I just don't know much about fire safety). "Stand Back," I said as I flicked a lit cigar onto the cushins.
When the pieces of earth and sky fell back into place, I reached gingerly toward me face and felt around to make sure everthing was still there. Mouth? Check. Nose? Check. Eyes? Check. Eyebrows? Awww, shit. That's gonna be hard to explain at work this week.
The rest of the party was great, what with lots of beer and college girls. Of course, every time I was getting somewhere with a co-ed, The Blondage would walk up and say "There's nothing sexier than a grown man with no eyebrows" then walk off cackling and snorting as the girl flailed about insanely for some excuse to get away.
I'm a one woman man until the hair grows back.