monet_on_bartlett_those_who_burn blumengarten not bothering to knock, rous striker flung the flimsy wooden door open. it smacked against the side of the carthaus and abruptly fell off its hinges, thudding into the snow. he stood in the opening, much like frankenstein's monster once he took his first steps from his creator's table, except rous was perhaps a tad more intimidating because his head and both hands were ablaze and the burning was wafting intolerable fumes into the room. mamacita, inebriated from downing nearly a pint of knob creek, instinctively looked up from her knees, where she had been sexually involved with grr-ant, and all but sobered up when she took one glance at rous striker. he scared the shit out of her. all she saw was life-threatening intrusion. she didn't know who or even what he was and she wasn't about to let it in without a fight. with a quick swipe from the back of her hand, she wiped the saliva from her lips and cheeks. reaching out for anything she could use as a weapon, she spied the gallon jug of whiskey at the chair-side table. she grasped if firmly and let it fly, flinging it with all her might directly at rous striker. it missed, hitting instead the roughcut plank wall beside him. the glass bottle shattered upon impact and sprayed most if not all of its contents on rous striker's face and body, dousing him from head to toe. the fifty proof alcohol wreaked havoc, acting much like gasoline would. it fed the greedy flames, already curling about his body, and turned him into a torch. further vexated by mamacita's sudden fit of defensive terror, rous shook himself like a wet dog and shouted a gurgling exclamation of rage. sparks flew all about the carthaus and caught bits of whiskey where it landed which started several new fires. some of them caught fast and grew large and dangerous in a few seconds time. feignez couldn't believe it. events were playing out scene by scene, line by line, her vision of catastrophe unfolding with uncanny, truer-than-life resemblance. she had to get the egg before it was too late. she jumped off the roof and carefully flew inside the carthaus behind rous striker, now totally engulfed in licking, twirling, spiraling flames. they hissed, popped, and cracked, burning with unbridled freedom, feeding on the dry tinder of his body. feignez skidded to a landing in front of mamacita and quickly searched from left to right, desperately hoping the egg was nearby and quickly accessible. new fires were flaring up all over the carthaus, latching on to anything they could use to grow on. rugs caught, books, papers, tapestries, paintings, pillows, even the back of the chair that grr-ant was sitting in yielded to the creeping destruction. soon the interior of the carthaus was swallowed up by a blanket of thick, choking, black smoke. mamacita took grr-ant by the arm and pulled him to his feet in a heroic attempt to get them both out alive. however, she forgot that his pants were at a wad around his ankles which made it impossible for him to move. his unsteady steps threw her off balance and she stumbled in the sudden blindness, causing both of them to fall straight forward into rous striker who still remained in the doorway. feignez, who had spotted the egg in its old tulip crate and straw just as the smoke took over, darted out of the way of mamacita and grr-ant and though it was difficult, considering she had to use her wings as hands, somehow lifted it out and cut through the screen of haze and obscurity, flying back over their heads as they crashed into the flaming match-man. she tried valiantly to sneak past rous and if the collision would have happened a second sooner she probably would have, but he saw her with the egg and in that moment realized what she had done. he reached out his burning hand and snatched her in mid-flight. shocked, she cried out like a trapped bird. oh so close. unable to hold the egg, she dropped it. fortunately it hit safely and rolled out through the doorway and on to the snow as if the unborn word-bird inside was propelling it. silmultaneously, all four of them, tangled up in a chaotic confusion of arms, legs, clothes and flames, fell through the doorless opening and bluntly down upon the bobsled. branestue and tretesta were both still sitting inside waiting. 040328 what's it to you? who go blather from