When I was about 8, my family were roasting marshmallows around the coleman bbq on the back porch in the summer time. My marshmallow lit on fire and I began frantically waving my straightened coat hanger about trying to put out the flames. The flaming hunk of sugary goodness flew off the end of the coat hanger and landed on my right hand, still burning. I screamed and ran like an idiot with my dad chasing after me with a glass of water. He knocked me down and put out my hand, and I have a surprisingly small scar there now.
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Originally Posted by Keith
This idiot's on your side, Danny.
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