As a parent, it’s usually not a good idea to leave kids alone with anything that could be dangerous.
This includes teenagers who might try to do something dangerous, because teenagers are often intrigued by exactly that.
In today’s story, two teenage boys play with fire, literally, and the situation gets way too explosive.
Let’s see how the drama escalates.
When I was younger, my cousins and I would always go and hang out at each others places.
All of our parents were in very rural areas.
To give you an idea of how rural, our nearest neighbor was over a mile away.
For my cousin, this was elevated to about 10 miles.
We did what any other teenage boys would do in the woods.
Whatever we wanted to.
A fire after rain usually isn’t that effective.
For this story, I was at my cousin’s place and we were having a bonfire.
It was a little damp as it had just rained but his dad was fairly stubborn and had decided that he was going to burn some brush regardless of how long it was going to take him and that we (my cousin and I) were just there to help him.
Neither of us wanted to be out there, but my uncle insisted that we couldn’t do anything else until all the brush was burned and we helped him put away all his equipment (chainsaw, log splitter, etc).
The boys were left in charge.
He tried to start the fire and after about 30 minutes finally got it to start.
We tended the fire and got it to where it wasn’t going to die before he decided to leave us in charge before going to go get more brush.
To keep the fire manageable, he had the foresight to separate all the brush in that area into multiple separate piles no bigger than about 2 feet high and about 3 feet wide.
As he didn’t want the fire to die, he told us that if it started to burn down to “add more fuel to the fire to keep it going.”
His cousin had a bad idea.
As he walked away, my cousin eyed the 10 gallon red plastic canister full of gasoline before returning a wicked little grin at me.
I just smiled back because naive little me had no clue what he was thinking.
MC time:
After a little while, the fire had burned down a little to where we could add more branches, but instead, my cousin grabbed the whole canister of gas and chucked it (more like dropped it) into the middle of the fire.
He wasn’t sure how to react.
I stared wide eyed as my cousin came back and said “we should back up”
Me: “what are you-”
Cousin: “He said to add more fuel, so I did.”
I looked at the canister (still sealed) and watched as the flames danced as they ignited the residual gasoline around the pour spout.
Part of me thought “I should pull that out” but another part of me thought “This is going to be awesome!”
His cousin wasn’t messing around.
As I tried to figure out what to do, I heard the screen-door to the house slam shut and realized my cousin had left me.
I thought, “Oh S*$^, If my uncle comes back, he’s going to blame me for this!”
I didn’t have to think about it for long I heard the screen-door slam again and my cousin emerged from the house with a .22 rifle.
He walked up next to me, aimed at the canister and said, “This is going to be amazing” before squeezing the trigger.
The bullet flew and pierced the canister on the highest part of it to allow the fumes to escape.
They were too close.
For those who have never seen a fireball that comes from an exploding canister of gasoline, it is absolutely glorious for those who are standing back far enough, which, we were not.
I was only able to watch for a very minimal amount of time before the heat and force of the blast caused me to step back and trip over the chainsaw and land smack on my back in a pile of brush.
My cousin ended up tripping and rolling down the hill about 30 feet before ended up in a lake at the bottom.
It was hard to tell how high the fireball made it but it was at least 100 feet because no sooner did my cousin drag his soaking-wet butt with the rifle back to the top of the hill than his dad (my uncle) flew down the little trail on the quad screaming at us.
The cousin played innocent.
Uncle: “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?”
Cousin: “I threw on more fuel like you told me to,” pointing to the exploded (and still on fire) shrapnel that used to be the gasoline canister.
Uncle: “I DIDN’T TELL YOU TO USE GASOLINE!”
Cousin: “You said FUEL! I used FUEL!”
Uncle: “Get the hell out of here! Both of you!”
He wasn’t allowed to stay much longer.
So we went inside.
My cousin changed, I pulled prickles out of my clothes, and we started playing video games.
Apparently my uncle had called my grandparents to come get me though.
No longer than an hour had passed after we blew up the fire than they showed up to take me home.
That was the last time he went to his cousin’s house.
On the way home my grandpa asked he how it was.
I said cool.
And he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was never to do that at his place.
Fallout: I was never allowed back over to their house ever again.
It sounds like his uncle needs to keep a closer eye on the cousin!
Let’s see how Reddit reacted to this story…
This person has a question.
This is a sad but sadly realistic question.
It could’ve been much worse.
I expected it to blow up quicker too.
That cousin sounds like a bad influence.
I, too, am curious where he ended up.
If you liked that post, check out this post about a rude customer who got exactly what they wanted in their pizza.
