DANCING WITH FLAMES - Segment 4 (Scroll down for earlier segments)


      During the summer, our imaginations ran wild and free. The neighbors thought they should run elsewhere.  This is probably why one of them had someone water his house every summer, while he packed up his belongings and fled to Nepal.

      They were always relieved when school would resume, and they could live without the constant fear of losing their homes to out-of-control ant hill and mattress fires, or any other fire our imagination could create.

     
     One summer day, my imagination said, “Let us make fire fly.”

     “We can’t make fireflies,” said Ernie.

     “Not fireflies,” I answered. “Fire fly.  Let’s make a home-made hot air balloon.”

     “How are we going to make a hot air balloon?” asked Ernie.

     “All we need is the right material and a little fire,” I answered. 

     “A little fire shouldn’t be a problem,” said Ernie.  “As soon as we start making the balloon, I’m sure a little fire will rush right over.”  

     Our first stop was the nearby dry cleaners.  They were more than happy to supply us with several dry cleaning bags for our clandestine operation.  Apparently thinking we were just going to drape our bags over suit coats, they appeared to be completely oblivious to the fact they were aiding and abetting the soon-to-be notorious “Hot Air Balloon Gang.”

     Later that evening, we marveled at our own creativity, as we assembled our balloons.  Once assembled, a little fire rushed right over, just as Ernie had prophesied.  We held the balloons while they filled with hot air.  Soon they began to lift off.  After they were high in the sky, drifting over town, we called city hall and reported strange, unidentified flying objects crossing overhead.  

     Then we ran over to the main highway.  There was a lonely car coming through town.  Seeing a driver behind the wheel, we positioned ourselves alongside the road and looked upward, pointing to the sky. The driver stopped and got out…marveling at the strange, glowing objects, silently passing overhead in the night sky.  Then he  jumped back in his car and sped away…probably fearful of being abducted by aliens.

     Considering the possibility of a crash burn, we always followed the balloons on foot or in someone's car. We didn't want a stray balloon reducing the town to smoldering timbers. Having already spent years on the run from teachers, we didn't like the thought of spending the rest of our lives as fugitives.

     One evening...


To be continued...check back soon