We Were Young, Then
A group of us used to go up the hill and have a bonfire most weekends. We lived in a small rural village and it was mainly an excuse to get away from our parents and drink in peace. But everyone loves a good fire, too. My friend Steve and I were budding pyros in those days. We insisted on being in charge of building and tending the fire, after which we would wow the girls in our group with our pyromaniac displays, by which I mean force them to watch in weary concern as we endangered our lives. I have some great memories of our bonfire spot - on the top of that precipitously steep hill, under the stars. But there's one truly terrible one as well.

I'll never forget the last day we ever had a bonfire. We were actually taking it easy on the fire tricks that night; it had been a long, hot summer's day and we were more concerned with drinking ourselves into a stupor. But as the twilight closed around us and the buzz of alcohol settled in, Steve and I felt our energy return and for some reason we decided that taking turns to leap over the flames was a manly and clever thing to do. Somewhere around the twelfth run it all went wrong.

Steve's foot caught on something in the grass and he went flying hands-first into the fire. With my help he managed to get out of the flames reasonably quickly but a sudden scream from one of the girls prompted his discovery that his top was now quite enthusiastically on fire.

"Put him out!" someone shouted, but there was nothing but spirits to throw on him.

"Stop Drop and Roll!" I roared as I looked around frantically for a solution. It was at that moment that I noticed the heavy pelvic weight of my full bladder. It was a revolting idea, but worth it to save the life of my friend. I charged forward, undoing my flies and belt. But it was at that moment that I noticed, to my horror, that my own trousers had caught fire as well.

I don't know if you have ever attempted to run away from your own legs, but it is an extremely difficult thing to do; even more so if you are drunk and your trousers are making their way down towards your knees. I pitched forward, down the steep slope of the hill.

I hit the ground with a tremendous thud, knocking the wind out of me. I bounced and somersaulted forward, gaining speed as gravity began to take command of the situation. My trousers slid off, taking my boxers with them.

Another great thud, only this time a rock embedded in the hillside crashed straight into the middle of my pelvic area, putting my bladder under enormous pressure. As I bounced forward again, I felt that pressure release and my bladder begin to empty.

Time slowed down to a crawl. I was on my back in the air, looking up at the first gentle stars of the evening. As I tumbled forward, I noticed the hot jet of wee arcing up towards my open, screaming mouth.

It tasted awful.

Finally I came to a soggy stop at the bottom of the hill. A noise pulled my attention back to the top, where a miraculously unharmed Steve, along with the rest of the group, were hooting at me with derision and spiteful glee. I knew in that moment that they hated me. I let out a wracking sob.

And then I shat myself.
(Frank Snow, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 17:49, 7 replies)

stupor

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 17:57, closed)

not a clue what you mean, pal.

(Frank Snow, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 18:04, closed)

You're losing your touch.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 18:26, closed)

You're not putting the effort in like you used to.

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 20:09, closed)

It's a fair cop.

(Frank Snow, Wed 28 Jan 2015, 22:44, closed)

As You Were, Gents....
I was gonna call "fake" but I see you've got it covered.
(Big Ramifications, Thu 29 Jan 2015, 6:39, closed)

Woah, woah, woah.
Let's have no calling Frank a liar here.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Thu 29 Jan 2015, 8:05, closed)