Lest anyone think that friend Amy is the only kook around these parts, I will now share a tale of my co-worker Sheri. She is smart and pretty, thin and funny.
Fortunately, she has quirks and vices which keep me from hating her.
This falls into the vice column.
One day on her way home from work, Sheri was enjoying a leisurely smoke. In the time honored tradition of all good smokers, she had cracked her window the tiniest bit in order for the smoke to be slurped out. Also, to flick out teeny ash bitlets.
It was during one of the ash flickings that mayhem ensued.
Sheri realized that the cherry (the little burning bit) was missing from the cigarette. The cherry is a fairly important part of the smoking experience. Without it, you are just fish lipping a tobacco straw.
After a bit of paranoid stomping and leg slapping Sheri relaxed, convinced that neither her leg nor her floor board were in imminent danger of combustion.
And she was almost right.
A very short time later, little wisps of smoke floated up into her field of vision. The coal had fallen into the door pocket which she had been innocently using as a trash receptacle. Straw wrappers, receipts, used napkins and various other flammable odds and ends had set up a smokey smolder.
In order to escape a possible firey death trap, Sheri skidded to a hasty stop just barely out of the lane of traffic. Unfortunately, when she flung her door open, the air current caused the smolder to BURST INTO FLAMES!
Instead of using her soda to douse the blaze, Sheri managed to scoop the entire burning mess out of the door compartment. She dropped it to the asphalt in the hopes of stomping the living hell out of it, thereby putting an end to the madness.
I bet you can guess what is coming.
The wind chose just that moment to gust down the highway. It snatched up the burning bitlets and tossed them into the dry weeds. Traffic continued to ease around the butt end of her minivan as she went into panic mode and started stomping along the highway like an Indian at a rain dance.
Sheri is a tiny woman but she can stomp out a brush fire in a hurry!
Fortunately, she has quirks and vices which keep me from hating her.
This falls into the vice column.
One day on her way home from work, Sheri was enjoying a leisurely smoke. In the time honored tradition of all good smokers, she had cracked her window the tiniest bit in order for the smoke to be slurped out. Also, to flick out teeny ash bitlets.
It was during one of the ash flickings that mayhem ensued.
Sheri realized that the cherry (the little burning bit) was missing from the cigarette. The cherry is a fairly important part of the smoking experience. Without it, you are just fish lipping a tobacco straw.
After a bit of paranoid stomping and leg slapping Sheri relaxed, convinced that neither her leg nor her floor board were in imminent danger of combustion.
And she was almost right.
A very short time later, little wisps of smoke floated up into her field of vision. The coal had fallen into the door pocket which she had been innocently using as a trash receptacle. Straw wrappers, receipts, used napkins and various other flammable odds and ends had set up a smokey smolder.
In order to escape a possible firey death trap, Sheri skidded to a hasty stop just barely out of the lane of traffic. Unfortunately, when she flung her door open, the air current caused the smolder to BURST INTO FLAMES!
Instead of using her soda to douse the blaze, Sheri managed to scoop the entire burning mess out of the door compartment. She dropped it to the asphalt in the hopes of stomping the living hell out of it, thereby putting an end to the madness.
I bet you can guess what is coming.
The wind chose just that moment to gust down the highway. It snatched up the burning bitlets and tossed them into the dry weeds. Traffic continued to ease around the butt end of her minivan as she went into panic mode and started stomping along the highway like an Indian at a rain dance.
Sheri is a tiny woman but she can stomp out a brush fire in a hurry!
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