If Satan had helpers, I firmly believed as a child, these things were some of them.
I am almost certain that my escapades drove my grandparents crazy. I was curious, experimental...I had no limits to what I could come up with and what I could do.
On the side of our house, there was a huge bed. Countless times I had taken a stick, destroyed it and ran. They came pouring out like clowns out of a car, mad and ready to eat me alive. The following day, I would go over to the bed, and they had repaired it, as if nothing happened. I did this for a few weeks before becoming bored with my game.
I am not certain where every one else was, I am sure my grandmother was in the house as always, do her housework. My grandfather was either at work or somewhere on the property doing something.
I nosed around the yard, bored and attempting to find something to cure my boredom. That is when I seen it. A old metal gas can. It was used for the tractor we had. I looked at it and then remembered the fire ants. I kicked around in the dirt near the can, debating. If I got caught, I would get my ass beat. I guess I liked beatings! I grabbed the can and hurried over to the fresh made mound. Pouring some gas on it, it quickly disappeared into the mound. (I was not aware that the fumes of the gas was flammable, not the gas). I added more, still it soaked into the mound. So I kept pouring.
Finally I was satisfied that I had enough to take care of the little monsters. I hurried back over, replacing the can where I found it. I waited. I was very sneaky. I went inside the house twice...the last time, swiping matches before heading back outside. I walked around the yard, waiting to see if my grandmother had become suspicious. She had that mother's intuition you know.
I waited to hear that screen door slam and her call out my name. Nothing. Finally I realized that I had been able to pull this off so far.
(First off, I was mischievous as hell, sneaky as hell, hard-headed, but sometimes I was never really that bright.)
I struck the match and dropped it. Whoosh! Flames shot up from that mound and it was almost like I could hear their little screams. The flames were almost above my head and I got slightly worried. I glanced around at the door, hoping she did not come to the door to check on us. Nothing. I waited..Still the flames continued to burn. I hoped that it would have flamed up and went out, but no...it continued. Shit! I was going to get caught.
I grabbed a bucket and slipped around behind the house to the other side to the water hose. I filled the small bucket and hurried back around to the other side. To my dismay, the bed was still burning merrily. Ants were everywhere....
I dumped the water onto the flames, there was a sizzle and a puff, but the fire continued. I made two trips and had no luck putting the fire out. I cannot remember if I went to my grandmother for help or if she came out and seen this four foot fire about 10 feet from the side of our house. She grabbed the water hose and pulled it over and attempted to put the fire out. The fire continued and she complained about why it would not go out. That was when she smelled the gas fumes. The gas fumes were nothing like the visualization that I had of the fumes coming out her ears. She was furious. My grandfather was equally furious when he heard about it, and my day ended with one hell of a tongue lashing and ass lashing.
I learned my lesson. Don't use so much gas and never in sight of the house. Can I say that I learned the lesson they tried to teach me, hell no? I learned that years down the road.
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