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BURN-OUT (standard:humor, 616 words)
Author: Danny ZilAdded: Oct 15 2006Views/Reads: 1687/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A cautionary tale of burning desire....which could lead to a funeral pyre.
 



“If you can't stand the heat, don't set yourself on fire !” I advised
the Buddhist monk but he just smiled serenely and continued to douse 
himself with petrol. 

He produced a light from somewhere, there was a gentle ‘whoosh' and
suddenly he was ablaze. I moved upwind, out of reach of the flames. 

A small crowd gathered to watch and I immediately recognized some of
them – they were rebels from a nearby village and each wore a thin, 
live, black snake as a headband. These dudes had kidnapped the local 
gigolo a few months ago and held him to ransom. Most of the middle-aged 
women in the district panicked and quickly contributed towards it and 
he was released in twelve hours. 

I took out a smoke then searched in my jacket pockets for my lighter.
The monk saw me searching and extended a burning index finger to me. I 
sidled in, lit up and nodded thanks. 

I sidled back to the small crowd and as we watched, the monk continued
to blaze. There was silence apart from the hissing of the flames. 

The silence was broken as we were joined by a fat whiney American kid
and his rather attractive blonde mother. 

“Oh look, Mom – a burnin man !” yelled Whiney Kid. “Just like Pop !” 

I glanced at Attractive Mom and from the brief unguarded look on her
face suddenly saw it all. Back home in New York. Years of abuse from 
the drunken husband. The beatings. The hospital visits. The forced anal 
sex. 

Then the revenge : waiting till he was lying drunk...the
petrol...watching him burn. 

Then the verdict : accidental death. 

Then the insurance money : the travel...the luxury...the thirst for
more. 

“Take a picture of me next to the burnin man !” yelled Whiney Kid. 

The short-skirted Attractive Mom produced her expensive camera. “Don't
get too close to the flames, honey,” she cautioned him. ‘Not yet,' I 
heard her thinking, ‘not till your policy fattens up some more.' 

In front of us, the monk blazed on. We all watched awhile, hypnotized by
the scene. 

I glanced over at Attractive Mom and caught her staring at me. That kind
of stare. The prospect of coitus non-interruptus beckoned as I stared 
back and I felt some stirrings below decks. 

Suddenly I saw it all again. The hotel bedroom. The fabulous sex. Me
having a last drink and wondering why I felt so woozy and couldn't 
move. Her standing over me, grinning. The cold sting of the petrol. The 
click of the lighter. Waking up in an urn. Instantly the below decks 
stirrings ceased. 

By now, the monk was nearly blazed. 

A black haired albino beggar shuffled round the small crowd, hands
outstretched. I saw people offering him coins but he kept shaking his 
head and moving on. When he reached me, I asked what he was begging 
for. “Forgiveness,” he muttered and shuffled off. 

In front of us, the monk spluttered a couple of times then the flames
died. He lay there, blackened and smoking. Spectacle over, the small 
crowd drifted off. 

Attractive Mom hung around, staring over at me, waiting for a decision.
I checked out her firm tanned body and my cock started creeping from 
due south to due north again. I glanced at the cremated monk, saw 
myself in an urn and reluctantly allowed my cock to retreat south. 

Sensing my decision, Attractive Mom hauled Whiney Kid off. 

A couple of long-haired backpackers strolled up and took in the scene.
They stared at the monk's charred remains. 

“Hey man, that's the worst case of burn-out I've ever seen !” one of
them remarked. 

The other sniggered and they strolled off. 


   


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