Real Dorm Stories :

<<back

Burn It Up
(sometime during Junior year, Brooklyn)

by Jess Hopsicker

The shadow of flame and orange flickered, dancing up over the partition that separated us from the room. A squeal erupted from the kitchen, followed by some clapping, then swearing.
Something was clearly on fire. We ran to the kitchen to see it was a pile of napkins on the table. Smoke rose and wafted to the open window. The suitemates gleefully watched and we joined in until the flames started to get out of hand. Then the burning pile, napkin holder and all was tossed into the sink. "Oh man, so close." It was at that time one of us was armed with the fire extinguisher. "I pulled the pin and everything."
"Hmm… then we’ll have to start another one." How could we say no?
"More paper, yes, napkins and paper towels," we muttered almost ritualistically constructing the pyre on the black cracked linoleum floor. There couldn’t be a better way to spend a Tuesday night.
"Ready aim fire!" With a strike and drop of a match and a healthy dose from an aerosol can there was an exciting flash and the flames licked past our knees.
"Sweeet." We all murmured just about giddy then everything went yellow. The sulfurous smog filled the room in seconds. It spread through out the hallway and to the bathroom, the porch and the bedrooms. It caked our hair and clothes made us cough and our eyes water.  We whooped and half danced our way to the balcony door. "Man that was great!" we laughed catching our breaths for a moment acting as if we just faced certain death and lived to tell our grandchildren. "Oh, man," we wheezed.
"Now what?" We sputtered.
"Good question," there was silence.
"I know let’s hit up a bodega, get good and squiffed then clean this shit up… Later." We left the yellow smoky mess to settle and innocently exited the building.