THE FAMILY CIRCUS: Resistance is Futile

Sleeping on the ground and a lack of hot water is getting to us.  A little punchy.  This morning I note that purchasing a tube of some vile-smelling substance called “Fire Paste” that some brain surgeon invented for “quick, clean fire starter.”

Yeah, right.  And I’m the tooth fairy.

The Directions

I’m reading the directions: “Squeeze on. Starts campfire, fireplaces, primes stoves and razes small children in a single application.”

Alright.  The tube doesn’t say that exactly.  But it should.

Caution: Flammable

I take a closer look at the yellow and orange tube.  Clearly lettered on the label are the words: “Caution: Flammable.”  Duh.  What else can you say about a substance that’s only slightly less combustible than jet fuel?

Whoever came up with the idea of fashioning dual-speared grilling sticks and dubbing them “roasters” ought to be tarred and feathered.  Great.  Just what every Jr. Pyromaniac needs—a red hot, smoking, double-pronged lethal weapon with which to swashbuckle his brother and turns his mother’s hair gray.

White Lake fire camp A;
Photographer unknown;
1953

Snatching one of said lethal weapons out of Nathan’s hand, I ogle the label.  Sure enough, it clearly advises: “Not a toy.”

What kid can resist that?

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