You’ll burn your hand off!”
In contrast, his roly-poly companion was scared to death.
“I told you, it’s fine. See, if you press your hand against the wall, like so…”
The gaunt fellow pressed his hand against the wall. Starved of oxygen, the flames vanished instantly.
“See?”
“Whoa… That’s really somethin’.”
These two, “Ghost” Randy and “Meatball” Pezzo, members of the Martillo Family, were scrambling to prepare for the celebratory banquet that would be held that night.
They’d bought too much fuel oil, so they’d opened a can and were entertaining themselves with a dangerous game.
“Huh, there’s still lots left. I guess maybe we shouldn’t’ve gone and opened it.”
“Say, what were we supposed to buy after this?”
“Let’s see… It’d be nice to have some fruit for dessert.”
Where was the nearest greengrocer’s? As Randy considered, Pezzo opened another can of oil.
“Hey, Pezzo, what’re you doing?”
“I wanted to try that hand-burning-thingy you just did. You know. We could maybe use it as a party trick.”
“You mook! Why’d you open a new one?! I just told you, there’s lots left in
this
one!”
“What’s the problem? We’ve got a ton of the stuff.”
The paper bag Pezzo held was packed with a dozen or so cans of oil. They weren’t sure whether it had been a store promotion or what, but there were a dozen can openers in there, too.
“Yeesh. Forget about the oil, what’re we supposed to do with all these can openers? …It’s your fault, Randy. You bought too much.”
“What else could I do? The discount got better the more we bought. This recession’s murder, so we’ve gotta stock up while we can.”
“Yeah, sure, but… If I hadn’t stopped you, all our dough woulda turned into oil.”
As Pezzo said this, laughing, he poured oil onto his glove.
“Randy, light this for me, wouldja? I can’t do it right when I’m holding this bag.”
“No help for that…”
Randy lit a match. Since there might yet have been oil on his glove, he whisked his hands apart quickly as soon as he struck the match.
“Here.”
As he brought the flame closer to his pal’s glove, Randy abruptly realized something.
Hey, his is cloth…
But it was too late. The spark had jumped to Pezzo’s big glove, and it blazed up so furiously one could practically hear the roar.
“Whoa! Ain’t this too much fire?!”
Startled by flames that were larger than he’d expected, Pezzo hastily shoved his hand against the wall.
However, although his palm was extinguished, the areas that weren’t touching the wall still blazed blue, as merrily as ever.
“Hey! It ain’t goin’ ouuuut!”
“Aaaaah! You idiot! You got oil all the way ’round the back of your hand!”
When Pezzo withdrew his hand from the wall, the flames reclaimed the areas that had been briefly extinguished.
Panicking, he waved his hand, but the fire showed no sign of abating. Quite a lot of oil had soaked into the cloth’s fibers, and Pezzo’s right hand looked like the wick of a giant candle. He flung the paper bag aside, and the contents of the opened cans splattered over the white wooden walls.
“Dammit! It’s getting hot!”
“Calm down! Just take the glove off!”
At Randy’s urging, he hastily withdrew the glove, then hurled it away, flailing his hand around like a lunatic.
Aside from some mild blistering on the back, nothing seemed to be seriously wrong with it.
“Ahh… I thought I was a goner…”
“Jiminy Christmas… I really don’t want to eat a whole roasted
you
.”
“You got
that
right.”
“Ha-ha…”
Breathing sighs of relief, the two began picking up the cans they’d scattered everywhere…
…and froze.
The discarded glove had landed right smack on top of the spilled oil…and the flames had migrated not just to the oil but to the wooden building itself. If there was a difference, it was that the color of the flames had changed from blue to
In contrast, his roly-poly companion was scared to death.
“I told you, it’s fine. See, if you press your hand against the wall, like so…”
The gaunt fellow pressed his hand against the wall. Starved of oxygen, the flames vanished instantly.
“See?”
“Whoa… That’s really somethin’.”
These two, “Ghost” Randy and “Meatball” Pezzo, members of the Martillo Family, were scrambling to prepare for the celebratory banquet that would be held that night.
They’d bought too much fuel oil, so they’d opened a can and were entertaining themselves with a dangerous game.
“Huh, there’s still lots left. I guess maybe we shouldn’t’ve gone and opened it.”
“Say, what were we supposed to buy after this?”
“Let’s see… It’d be nice to have some fruit for dessert.”
Where was the nearest greengrocer’s? As Randy considered, Pezzo opened another can of oil.
“Hey, Pezzo, what’re you doing?”
“I wanted to try that hand-burning-thingy you just did. You know. We could maybe use it as a party trick.”
“You mook! Why’d you open a new one?! I just told you, there’s lots left in
this
one!”
“What’s the problem? We’ve got a ton of the stuff.”
The paper bag Pezzo held was packed with a dozen or so cans of oil. They weren’t sure whether it had been a store promotion or what, but there were a dozen can openers in there, too.
“Yeesh. Forget about the oil, what’re we supposed to do with all these can openers? …It’s your fault, Randy. You bought too much.”
“What else could I do? The discount got better the more we bought. This recession’s murder, so we’ve gotta stock up while we can.”
“Yeah, sure, but… If I hadn’t stopped you, all our dough woulda turned into oil.”
As Pezzo said this, laughing, he poured oil onto his glove.
“Randy, light this for me, wouldja? I can’t do it right when I’m holding this bag.”
“No help for that…”
Randy lit a match. Since there might yet have been oil on his glove, he whisked his hands apart quickly as soon as he struck the match.
“Here.”
As he brought the flame closer to his pal’s glove, Randy abruptly realized something.
Hey, his is cloth…
But it was too late. The spark had jumped to Pezzo’s big glove, and it blazed up so furiously one could practically hear the roar.
“Whoa! Ain’t this too much fire?!”
Startled by flames that were larger than he’d expected, Pezzo hastily shoved his hand against the wall.
However, although his palm was extinguished, the areas that weren’t touching the wall still blazed blue, as merrily as ever.
“Hey! It ain’t goin’ ouuuut!”
“Aaaaah! You idiot! You got oil all the way ’round the back of your hand!”
When Pezzo withdrew his hand from the wall, the flames reclaimed the areas that had been briefly extinguished.
Panicking, he waved his hand, but the fire showed no sign of abating. Quite a lot of oil had soaked into the cloth’s fibers, and Pezzo’s right hand looked like the wick of a giant candle. He flung the paper bag aside, and the contents of the opened cans splattered over the white wooden walls.
“Dammit! It’s getting hot!”
“Calm down! Just take the glove off!”
At Randy’s urging, he hastily withdrew the glove, then hurled it away, flailing his hand around like a lunatic.
Aside from some mild blistering on the back, nothing seemed to be seriously wrong with it.
“Ahh… I thought I was a goner…”
“Jiminy Christmas… I really don’t want to eat a whole roasted
you
.”
“You got
that
right.”
“Ha-ha…”
Breathing sighs of relief, the two began picking up the cans they’d scattered everywhere…
…and froze.
The discarded glove had landed right smack on top of the spilled oil…and the flames had migrated not just to the oil but to the wooden building itself. If there was a difference, it was that the color of the flames had changed from blue to
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