We used to have a house show house that we called foghaus for various reasons, one of which is that there was an overused smoke machine. One night, we were sitting around a fire in the backyard, passing the guitar around, drinking some beers, smoking some cigarettes, having a jolly old time, etc. It was a few weeks after Christmas and someone had walked around the neighborhood and grabbed the trees that people had put out for the trash. It was a great idea, it was a terrible idea, it probably could have used some forethought, but regardless, we set the tree standing straight up on top of the fire. The flames instantly shot up at least 30 feet in the air. I, being weary of cops and just generally not wanting trouble, ran to the frontyard. I could still see the flame over the roof. I got in my car and started it, thinking I was going to make a quick getaway, but a few friends had, had the same idea as me and got in my car before I had a chance to pull out from the curb. We made a caravan to the gas station and bought another 12 pack. We slowly pulled back up to the house, no cops.
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