Has he ever mentioned setting the rocks on fire?...
LOL ... I must have missed something during this confessional.
At sweat lodges, they heat volcanic rocks outside the lodge in a fire and then toss them in with a shovel. When that’s too wimpy to purify us, they toss water on the freshly fired rocks and we inhale live steam. They were just really, really hot, not on fire, though. Leave it to Darks.
Yes, I did set rocks on fire.
Confession time: I have a talent with two things.
Sharpening kives to a nightmare edge and fire.
The rock was begging for it, it was a huge boulder.
And it was less than seven foot from the house.
Did I mention it was a quartzitic granite with sulfur chaser?
Lit it up, melted about two inches off the surface and freaked out the neighbors.
Years later I was camping.
Dad was about a quarter mile away, at night, and noticed he had a shadow.
Since humans don’t normally cast flickery wavy shadows at night he deduced that something was odd about this.
So he turned around and saw the PILLAR OF FIRE.
[This one was lame, it wasn’t a cloud by day. Drats.]
Dad came rushing back to teh campsite to find me tending this two foot wide abomination of flame and heat.
And site security was standing there getting fire pointers from yours truly as they were amazed and mystified with my talent to stack wood that should by rightsonly produce a three foot flame and instead produce a thirty foot column of OMG.
Dad yelled at me, site security coughed and said ‘Oh yeah, by the way..’
So I flipped one single log down, the fire dropped to a sedate foot and a half tall, and security crapped their knickers.
My malignant talent with sharpening knives.
What can I say about it?
Have a pocketknife that has a sheepsfoot blade that I always kept at a keen hair popping edge.
Well my boss at the time, retail job, borrowed the knife.
I warned him in front of witnesses repeatedly “DO NOT TOUCH THE EDGE. EVER.”
Less than five minutes later he’s running up to me and instisting he’s going to sue me because he had his finger on the cutting edge while using the blade to scrape stickers off of shelving.
And the blade shuddered across a sticky spot, rebounded off the webbing of his hand and neat as you please took his finger down to the bone.
The only hint he had that he’d nearly lost his finger was the horror splash of crimson fluid on the wall when he set the knife down.
He never felt it near remove his finger.
Everyone laughed at him after he explained how he accomplished this feat.