Looking for something else, I stumbled upon my old Zippo. Gift from Bubba one Birfmas, don’t recall, birthday? Xmas? Girlfriend left him? Girlfriend left me? Details are fuzzy but I still have the lighter. Dried and dusty, still one of the rare mementos that I keep. You know, in case I ever have that, “Let’s burn this place down” scenario, and need to toss a lighter on heap of fuel, for that dramatic exit.
Just fun. Just having fun, and if I can’t have fun?
I won’t play.
Zippo
About the author:
Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.
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