TEN

The couple with the bikes and the Subaru gamely tried to ignore the boozy, juvenile taunts from the three of them.  Dave’s work with the stove and campfire continued.  He sloshed the kerosene and lighter fluid to and fro.  Soon the campsite was awash in accelerant.  The fumes hung in the air.

    “I am the god of hell-fire and I bring you…”

    “FIRE!!!”  Everybody joined in a rousing chorus of the Arthur Brown song as Dave tossed a flaming book of matches on the flammable-soaked firewood.  There was an audible whoosh and bright orange flame.  Dave, Rich and Billy stepped back from the fire pit, silenced by the spectacle.  They stared at the flames and wood, listening to the split and crackle.  They stared on and on, unaware of each other’s presence or their location.  They were consumed.

    “Whoa, it’s hot and bright.”

    “It’s orangey.”

    “When did you do that??”

    “Do what?”

    “Start the fire.”  Rich said mechanically.  He repeated himself, unsure if he was the one who asked in the first place.  “When did you start the fire?”

    “When did who start the fire?”  Dave wrestled with the meaning of each word in Rich’s question but couldn’t find enough.  “Who started the fire?”

    “You started it man,” Billy jumped in.  “You started the fire.  A man… you, started the fire.”

    “Are we talking about this fire here?  I started it, but I didn’t… wait,” Dave raced to catch up to his words.  “You weren’t asking me about fire, right?  Just this one?”

    “Fire’s fire,” Rich said.  He smiled his broad smile, “and this is a fire, and also the fire.”  His voice broke up in choking laughter.  It caught on with the other two.  All three of them wheezed with laughter.  This was fire.  It was also a fire and additionally, it was the fire.  Pretty simple stuff, really.  Pretty simple, highly amusing stuff.