The sound of sirens come rushing through your peripherals like long extended gunshots with the tone color of a shot-clock buzzer. A quick gust of hard wind smacks your body like a tree branch as a monstrous life-saving steel death trap plows by you en route.
A quick change of gaze to the leftward bow of your visionary plain reveals a four story red-brick building, burning like a mother*#$@er. The roof is already halfway disintegrated, people are pouring out the doors and windows like syrup through a pasta strainer. The whole thing is a mess!
You and your companion keep walking until you reach the street corner, there you park it and 180 your view for a more lengthy observation and a cigarette. “Glad I don’t live here.” your comrade mentions half to himself; you nod in agreement.
The firefighters are giving their best frenzied effort to douse the bright blistering chaos, but it seems they are up against quite an a opponent. Meanwhile a role call was being done. We walked over and inquired about how it went, and were quite relieved to hear nobody had been hurt.
After walking away you look back with a devilish grin and exclaim with an ere of childlike excitement that sounded almost manic “Well if their all out we might as well let her burn to the ground. #*!% that building! why do we need it anyways? can’t we just send them too a commune or a gulag or something? Better yet, Let them eat cake!”
We couldn’t help but laugh at our spitefully crude humor. The way we saw it, laughter was a medicine, no matter how you procure it; as long as it isn’t intentionally at someone else’s expense, no harm done.
By the time the firefighters had finished putting out the fire, the building was little more than a foundation, a few support beams, and a couple of the first story walls. Nobody seemed to be able to pick out the cause of the fire.
That is until later that evening, when a bunch of empty cans of gasoline were discovered in the woods nearby. This baffled the inhabitants of the building and many of the town itself.
Shortly after, police arrived at the homes of you and your comrade, after a few questions you were acquainted with a stylish pair of matching silver bracelets.
You see your comrade at the station who’s already ratted you out, you try to duke it out in the station, but when handcuffed and interrupted by four officers trying to get you to chill the $#!@ out; not much progress is made.
Ironically, It was only the comrade who had participated, you were actually clueless until now, however he had somehow woven a way too include you into the story for only god knows what reason.
Despite your innocence you both spend 5 years in prison for arson and destruction of public property. Maybe you shouldn’t have burnt that building down scumbag, you ever think of that one?
The morals of the story are
- Don’t burn down buildings, there are much better ways too change the world!
- Always have an alibi, even when your doing nothing wrong.
- If you are gonna do something stupid, make sure you destroy the evidence unlike this fool.
- Don’t hang around crime scenes; even if your innocent, because you never know who isn’t.