h a l f b a k e r y
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Roland splashed the 190 proof corn liquor over the Jalapeño Chorizo and stepped back, flicking a blowtorch flame across the breadroll. A flash and a roar and the Flambé Dog was alight, smoke curling up in a greasy pall to the ceiling as the young man took it from him, using the Nomex glove provided.
The
smell of burning hair was awesome, but he seemed to be enjoying it. The three bored paramedics watched, lazily. They had seen it a thousand times, trusting the gel smeared on the man's face to keep his face from burning.
The flames snuffed out quickly, once in the mouth, starved of oxygen.
Three quick bites and he turned and dived for the water, taking two more bites as he descended. With a massive splash he disappeared, tonsorial flames extinguished.
The next diner, tattooed and with many peircings, stepped forward, reaching for his Burning Habanero & Pepperoni Dog, with Tequila. Roland reached for the blowtorch, standing well clear.
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I was hoping to see some article about canine incineration, and be the auto-boner. |
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(+) For the wiener conflagration. |
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No wiener dog conflagration here, Sherrif. |
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