On Thursday Engle
decided that he would set his flat on fire. He did this because that weird
bloke who is always down the pub (‘Nige’, I think people call him) told him
that if he put his phone in the microwave then it would charge the battery.
This was backed up by Bozza, who everyone thinks is a bit of ‘lad’ because he once
got stuck in a revolving door and made a joke about it, but is actually a bit
of twat because he fucked someone behind his missus’ back.
But Engle had a few other friends
down the pub that night who quickly found several links to websites that
clearly showed that there was no science behind it, and that it would severely fuck
up their phone, and it would be quite a huge fire risk.
‘They’re
all in on the conspiracy,’ Bozza whispered in Engle’s ear.
‘What
conspiracy?’ Engle asked.
‘The phone company conspiracy! The companies
don’t want you to know that microwaves charge phones, because otherwise you’d stop
buying their phone chargers,’ Bozza replied, tapping his nose conspiratorially.
‘Oh yeah, and that black guy over there doesn’t want you to do it because he’s
half-Kenyan and historically, they don’t like phones.’
Engle
had been nodding along to this, and despite the last bit sounding like a crock
of shit, the rest had seemed fine. As they left the pub, with the sound of
Bozza and Nige’s encouragement ringing in their ears, they felt determined to
see what would happen with their phone and the microwave.
Well,
it turns out that it burns, and now the kitchen is on fire. Scotty, the
flatmate whose bedroom is over the kitchen, is now desperately trying to put it
out and screaming for someone to call the fire department. Two years ago they
had threatened to leave, and find a place on their own, but they were told time
and time again by Engle that it would be different this time, and that they
could change, and they were convinced to stay. As they fought the fire on their
own they started to regret this decision.
Wally,
the pale, scrawny flatmate who lives in a hovel under the stairs and doesn’t pay
rent, had been egging Engle on to do it. While everything burned, Wally shouted
at Scotty to save his stuff for him, which had been sitting in a flammable box
on top of the microwave. As they watched Scotty fight the fire alone, and their
other flatmate Irene call their former boyfriend and ask she could stay with
them, Engle was overcome with different emotions.
‘Oh
God, what have I done?
‘It’s
been a long time coming!’
‘This’ll
show ‘em!’
‘They
say fire is cleansing…’
Wally
stood at Engle’s shoulder in the doorway of the kitchen, licking his lips as
the flames devoured the cupboards, and then the table, and then made it’s way
towards the living room.
‘Oh
well, it’s happened now, should try and make the best of it I suppose… anyone
got any marshmallows?
To
be continued.