It was hot. Terribly hot. The cooling typhoon had passed by. There was no breeze in the air, and I was waiting for a taxi. Sweat dripped off of my nose, and those passing by in the busses starred at me with wonder. I wished one of those trucks with water spitting out of it would come around. It didn’t. It was so hot that I couldn’t see the flame of my lighter. I lit a cigarette blindly. Thinking it would calm me down, taking a drag off the cigarette only agitated me even more. Sweat dripped onto it nearly putting it out. It was close to four o’clock and there were no taxis in sight. I lit another cigarette ten minutes later, and the situation was only getting worse. Seemingly available taxis rolled down their windows asking me where I was going, but none were going my way, so I was out of luck. The girl next to me had arrived earlier than I had, but I was to her left, so I got to get every opportunity to ask the drivers to take me first. Noticing this, she then complained to me that I was trying to steal her ride. I asked her where she was headed, and it turned out that we were heading to the same place. Could we share a taxi when one finally did come? “keyi de”, she said. The sun was beating down on my bald head making it into a solar panel. We finally got a taxi, and I rode in the front seat selfishly hoping to suck up some of the air-con, only the air-con exhaust exit was broken. It was an older taxi, and I was upset. However, it was blowing out though directly down, so it was a bit cooler than it was outside. I slowly began to stop dripping. The front part of my pants was still soaked with my sweat making it look as if I had pissed on my self. When I noticed it, I was a bit embarrassed to say the least. The taxi driver was distracted by the sight of my hand. After starring at it for the duration of the first red light, he finally asked me what had happened.
It was a disgusting sight, with huge blisters on four of my fingers oozing puss. I answered that I had blown it up by lighting a balloon on fire. This month I’m going to warn you all not to light those balloons that you see being sold in tourist areas around town on fire. Yes, they’re filled with hydrogen. I was stupid one night in the bar, when someone bought a big bouquet of balloons in there. I then decided it would be funny to light one on fire, and wham the whole lot of the buggers violently went up in flames. Very luckily nobody got hurt. Who knew that they would save on cash and fill them up with hydrogen rather than helium? I certainly didn’t, but now you do, so beware.
By Tim Hoerle