this morning #848.

this morning, as i evenly distributed two jugs’ worth of gasoline around the edges of the barn, i gleefully pictured the sad GAWSH DURN look he was going to have on his face when he got the call informing him that the biggest building on his property had burnt hot right on down to the cold, cold ground. it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been warned to back his ass off. he’d been advised at least twice. possibly thrice. i was done being the bigger man. the one running away. it was serious signal time. shot across the bow territory. i took one last drag of gas fumes & stepped out, dripping the last bit by the door. lit up a matchbook & placed it on the hay. backed away. the flames came quick. the smoke was thick.