By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. My eyes stung. My throat felt parched. My hands felt clammy. The black smoke billowed and invaded my nostrils. Moving like a blind man who’s lost his cane, I spluttered and gasped towards the hose. I gagged on the acrid smoke and tried to water down this mess. The leaves were not supposed to attract so much attention.  

“Jesus, Marty, what happened? It looks like you got a forest fire going on, should I call the fire brigade?’’ My neighbor, Jeff, warbled out of his window. I tried to think of a diplomatic retort, but the haze of black smoke prevented me from that. Wheezily I yelled “No thanks- err go back inside!” Despite the fact I knew well that he would come and try to interfere. 

“Looks like a neat little bonfire, you got going on.” Jeff bellowed unnecessarily. Three minutes later he brought out a tarp to put out the fire. Awkwardly, I grinned and thanked him profusely. He being a humble guy stood and let me show gratitude for a full ten minutes before shuffling off that he had the game to watch. It was the Giants versus the Patriots.