[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
You love smores. Your mouth is now watering for them, but the key ingredient has been spread across your beautiful back deck. For a moment you consider the ten-second rule, but you know that hint of OCD in you would never let you enjoy it, even if you could bring yourself to roast one anyway.

You sigh as you bend down to gather the spilled mallows, but on the inside you’re grinning because you know that Nick will assume that the neat freak is just cleaning up the mess. The punk actually allows you to pick up every last one without bothering to help, but for once you are glad. When you have every piece of ammo back in the ripped bag, you wait for the perfect moment.

Nick grabs a gram cracker and then joins AJ in the hot tub. Once he’s good and relaxed, you unleash your aim and begin hurling mallow after mallow at his face. “Dude!” he laughs, “Howie!” You only throw harder. “Hey! That one got in my eye!”

“Are you honestly going to tell me you got poked in the eye with a marshmallow?” you laugh when he ducks for cover.

Your laughter ignites the need to fight back, and Nick reaches for one of the slimy wet marshmallows floating in the water around him. You recognize you mistake instantly and duck for cover just before the sticky goop can reach you. You throw again, but you accidentally hit AJ, and now you’ve got him throwing mush at you too.

You hold your ground, though, because you see Brian sneaking up on them with an evil grin on his face. You distract Nick and AJ with a new round of fire and Brian takes the moment to grab to gooey mallows of his own. “Happy birthday, Howie!” he calls as he plasters gooey stuff onto each Nick and Brian’s heads.

An all-out war is now on. There are Backstreet Boys ducking for cover everywhere, while an oblivious Kevin continues to patiently cook the marshmallow Howie had given him before the tragic spill. No one is more anal than Kevin when it comes to an evenly roasted mallow, and he’s so focused he doesn’t even notice the chaos going on around him.

Meanwhile, Nick managed to nail you right in the face with a glop of gooey goodness. You figure this action simply can’t go unpunished, so you grab the bottle of birthday champagne sitting by Kevin, and you shake it up real good before unleashing your fury on the young blond.

“Take that!” You cry as you chase Nick around the patio, spraying everything in your path, including your wife’s new curtains that are hanging over the back door you left open.

You cringe for a moment, knowing your wife is going to kill you for that, and Nick seizes the moment, tackling you to the ground. He tries to wrestle the bottle away from you, but you’re quicker, more agile. You scamper away, managing to spray Nick in the face with the last of the champagne, but you both end up tumbling into Kevin. The crash forces Kevin’s near-perfect mallow right into the flames and sets the thing ablaze. “Aww, come on!” you hear him pout.

You scramble to your feet, but you’re too close to the burning marshmallow. Kevin lifts it quickly before you can put your eye out, but it slips off his makeshift skewer and goes soaring to the house. “Would you two knock it off before someone gets hurt!” Kevin yelps in that ‘I mean business’ voice that makes the rest of you freeze no matter what is going on.

All eyes turn to Kevin, and none of you, not even Kevin, realize that the blazing marshmallow, landed on your wife’s new curtains, until the woosh from the igniting champagne, nearly singes the back of Nick’s head.

Within seconds the entire back door is engulfed in flames. You, along with all of your friends, stand there with you mouth gaping open for a moment. You all scramble for handfuls of water from the hot tub, but it’s no use. The fire has already reached your wife’s beautiful sued couch. “On the bright side, she won’t know about the curtains,” you mumble to yourself, still suffering from denial as your house begins to burn down.

It’s not until Kevin shouts, “Someone call 911!” that you realize the severity of your predicament.

You’re all in swimsuits. All cell phones are now on the wrong side of the flames. There is no way in the house, and there’s no way off the patio. The only thing you can do is go down the concrete stairs to the lower deck and get as far from the fire as possible. “The alarm will call the fire department,” you assure your friends as you reach the farthest part of the deck.

You can all feel the heat and you wonder if the flames will jump from the house to where you’re standing. You look down the mountain behind you, and can only think of two plans. Wait where you are until the Hollywood Fire Department comes to your rescue, or try to jump the patio railing and head down the hill to safety.

If you’ve always wanted to be rescued by a fireman, continue on to chapter 4.

If there’s no way in hell you’re sticking around to get roasted like a mallow, skip to chapter 10.