When they first began, Dahlia figured using his hair as kindling would suffice. “Hair burns quickly, so we’ll begin there.” Dahlia had said. Jacob was unconvinced. To prove her point, she started small. A tiny match to his wrist. A fireplace match to the forest surrounding his groin. A burning newspaper to his chest hair. Poof. Nothing. Once the two were finished sneezing out the smell of burnt hair and newsprint, Jacob suggested she use something chemical to assure he could be lit up as planned.

7 parts ethyl alcohol

7 parts water

Salt for color

Candle for flame

Now that the flames were fueled and dancing nicely up his arms and torso, Dahlia took her mug to her lips and gulped in her cold anise tea, appreciating the work she had done. Observing the obscene scene in front of her made her feel like a director of an absurdist play; staging strange performance art. She smirked quietly at that thought while the man in front of her screamed a scream not unlike one she made herself while in labor.

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Still hacking through the weeds. Anyone available and willing to do some editing for me this weekend?

Classy Biped