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My boyfriend, Todd, set me on fire last night.
Not even joking one bit. Of course, It was an accident...
We were sitting by the campfire and there was a big log on the fire pit. And there was a few inches of space underneath the log and the bottom of the pit. He was putting gasoline in the bottom of the pit. And the log exploded into fire. He was still holding the gas can and in an effort to save both our lives (if that had caught fire we'd both probably be dead right now), he threw the gas into the yard.... except I got splashed with gasoline, which immediately lit fire to my pants (on the knees). So I threw myself face first onto the ground and the fire did not go out. Then I stop, dropped, and rolled. Which also did not work too well. It helped but I was still on fire. Then he grabbed the lawn chair cushion and wrapped my legs. As I screamed bloody murder, he held onto my legs and put the fire out. Then I stood up and ripped my pants off because I didn't want my skin to fuse to my denim. Then I got carried inside where I did not cry but instead screamed obscenities, so embarassing. Do being lit on fire merit a few f-bombs? Anyway, my legs are well... I don't know. Definitely second degree burns. I am going over to my cousin's house, she is training in the Hopkins burn unit, hopefully she can straighten me out.
I haven't told my parents yet, I guess I better get my butt upstairs and do that. |
| | Posted 10/13/2007 8:07 AM - 20 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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