Them Genes Them Genes

I've relayed this story in short on one other occasion through another type of media (YouTube). Yet it was part of a Q&A and was quickly answered. And was about 5 years ago. Since then I have retold the tale to my friends and so forth and in the video, it's not as detailed.

When I say detailed I mean my initial thoughts as a 13 year old.

Yes, I once was a young Tefflet, Us Teffies do age you know? As we all know, in your teenage years, your parents are the dumbest creatures alive. You cannot fathom how they have the know-how to try and raise you. Oh the injustice of not being able to go out with your friends and so forth.

Every now and then, you are put into a situation that legitimately blows your mind and you are free to have the thought of "WHAT?!"

This particular "WHAT" moment happened at a bonfire.

Now, I have to backstory a little bit here. My dad lives in the middle of nowhere and somehow also has neighbors. Good ol' redneck habitation area. Gotch'er acre a' lan' witcher corn'n'maters growin' fer the summer kinda habitation area.

Loved it as a kids...noooooot so much in later years. My dad was known for big bonfires, which then entailed drinking booze and having X number of drunk friends take bets on who could jump the bonfire at X stage of height of inferno flames. It never ended well for the drunks, yet was pure entertainment for all us kids there. But that is another story.

The story I wish to impart, didn't even INVOLVE the bonfire, yet magically did involve it. The bonfire was not lit, and herein lies the problem!

My dad was also a boat mechanic. He owned his own business and I'm sad to say that the other day, I actually laughed out loud driving behind a guy hauling a boat and yelled "He's got an Evinrude motor?!! HAAAA What TRASH!" and got a blank stare from the MoonGoddess. I sheepishly continued, whilst pointing in shame, "guy.boatmotor.evinrude...MY DAD WAS A BOAT MECHANIC DON'T JUDGE ME!"

Now, when you start having problems in your fuel lines with a motor, there's gonna be a big problem...water. Because, hello, it's submerged in water. Before you can work on a boat with damaged fuel lines, you drain the fuel inside the boat, just in case there is water in it.

Now this was right at the beginning of the whole "Global Warming" "Kumbaya" "Love the Earth" spazzing, and my dad (As sadly I still am for some reason) was all "EFF the GREEN INITIATIVE!"

So he siphoned the gas into 5 gallon buckets. Now...you take these to a processing center right? Someone recycles the gas and all that good BS. NO...not papa bear oh great and wise gasoline master...no.

Daddy made Napalm equivalents. He had a HUUUUGE hole dug out in his back yard (was supposed to become a swimming pool...NEVER happened). He'd let the weeds grow up nice and tall and set them on fire to 'burn the hole out for when he was ready to make the pool'

Good job, dad...keep the death trap hole clean.

He'd get some huge plastic McDonald's cup and fill it with gasoline and fling it into the inferno and BLAM! He'd laugh and say "That's like Napalm, that's what Napalm would do to you."

Ah, ex-military...seriously...warped...

Now the bonfires were a different story. He drew upon his many years as a boy/eagle/ninja snake scout, and did the whole kindling triangle (or tepee or whatever it was), add a little of this and that and so on, then larger chunks of wood.

Not this time. This time, it was the bonfire to end all centuries. He had bought a new couch and the old one "Just HAD to go". This got a Spring Cleaning frenzy started, and before we knew it, there were mattresses, a couple coffee tables, and his couch all on this big pile ready for ignition.

My dad gets an idea. "Hey, go grab that bucket of gasoline out of the back of my truck"
Oh no.

He's steadily dumping gasoline all over this bonfire. My sister and I are standing there "Dad...dad....DAD that's enough, that's A LOT of gasoline!'
"NAAAAAAH It's soakin it up, it'll be fine!"

Uneasy glances were exchanged.

Now, you know something bad is going to happen when they start calling their friends over, "Jaime! Weasel! Ron! C'mere! We're gonna light this sucker up!"

Terrified glances were exchanged.

He strikes a match and tosses it in.....nothing. Match number two...nothing.
This starts a bit of cussing "What in the ever loving hell?! I put 5 gallons of gasoline on this thing! Must've soaked it up! Ron! Go get the other bucket!"

My sister and I yammering over each other, steadily "Dad dad dad, this is a bad idea, it's the vapors dad the vapors, the gasoline is soaked into the couch but the vapors are heavier than air! gasoline vapors are heavier than air, dad!!! You're throwing the match at the top!! You need to light a stick and throw it towards the base!"

"Nah nah nah, I've been dealin with gasolines and fires mah whole life, I think I know what I'm doin....ROOOON!!! You got the bucket yet?"

Five more gallons get flung gleefully onto this Megatron of bonfire stacks.

"Thaaaar we go!!!" He said as he lit a cigarette and smiled, "That'll do it."

"That'll do it alright..." My sister snipped to me "he's going to kill us!! And if he doesn't...MOM will kill him."
I simply nodded, I was too terrified to look away.

Match number three...nothing. Match number four...Nothing.

"DAD!!! Dad the VAPORS it's been like 10 minutes they're not even THERE anymore it's like GOING across the GROUND!"

Did he heed our warnings? Our frantic cries?
No...no he did not, thank you for asking.

You have to realize, this is the same man that decided he was going to teach us everything he knew because the public school system was 'failing the country' (which...I do believe) So he taught us a wealth of knowledge well beyond our years.

Hell, he taught us ABOUT THE GASOLINE VAPORS!

He finally strikes this one match and tosses it, and it lands...right at the bottom of the burn pile, and ignited ALL the vapors that had sunk to the ground.

I'm not going to compare it to the nuclear bomb, but it was close. One amazing explosion upwards, and then ALL the vapors on the ground ignited and a wave of DOOM came towards EVERYONE!

Screaming, running, drunks tripping over dogs. We're SCREAMING at the top of our lungs, "WE TOLD YOU! WE TOLD YOU DAD!!!"

And ALL he had to say about it was, "WASN'T THAT COOL!?"

It's that moment, if you're fairly intelligent like we were, you take a moment to stop and think about this that just happened. I'm sure my sister had the same thought and we telepathically agreed and shared it, oh my god...we're genetically related to him.

Yep, that's right. No amount of education throughout my life has ever erased that story, and it's forever stuck with me that no matter HOW intelligent I may feel...I am genetically related to a man that nearly destroyed probably an entire neighborhood with gasoline.

Them genes them genes, they's sho' run deep....