I recently, finally, and not a moment too late, had that flamethrower installed on the hood of my car.

Don’t worry. I seldom use it. Actually, I have yet to use it because I’m just now driving home from the Flame Thrower Emporium. The installation tech gave me a quick tutorial on the system, but they hadn’t secured the proper licensing because the local community advocates are opposed to the FT movement altogether. If you ask me, the movement is scared. They are a group of radicals who believe that people outside their circle are fundamentally flawed. Secretly, I am quite sure, they would all love to attach a thirty pound, all American steel canon to their SUVs and mini-vans. Of course they do. Who wouldn’t?

But instead of floating harmlessly to the pro-FT side of the movement, they take the hard line and fill out petitions to oppose the installation of flamethrowers by hardworking entrepreneurs trying to live a practical existence. I think they understand what is at stake. It means they would have to let me in front of them when I want to merge onto the freeway. Even if they are traveling eighty miles an hour and speed up even faster in order to remain one car ahead of me on the freeway for no good reason, the flamethrower on my hood will give them a good reason to consider the consequences of the trailer. I wonder what my fuel consumption will look like now.

All in all, I’m not sure what to make of the drive home. Everyone is playing nice and I didn’t get a chance to try my new toy.

Bummer.

As I pull into the garage, I remember a new pumpkin spice candle I got for a birthday gift last week. I hate pumpkin spice and I hate candles. I bet I can light it up.