stairs.
This time he didnât take any chances. He rang the bell a bunch of times and waited until he heard someone coming. He leaneddown, lit the bag on fire and disappeared around beside the steps.
The door opened, and the all-time hairiest guy Iâve ever seen stepped out, wearing nothing but a white towel. He looked around for a second before he noticed the fire. He followed the script exactly.
He stomped on it with his bare foot.
He screamed.
His towel fell off and landed on the fire.
He stood there buck naked for a secondâjust long enough for me to get a clear shot. Then he picked up the flaming towel and ran back into the house.
We just lost our PG-13 rating, but that didnât matter.
It made amazing footage.
door number three
Watching Naked Guy try to put out the fire was what did it for me. Suddenly, I was convinced our movie was going to win an Oscar. I didnât want to miss my chance at stardom. It was my turn to ring the doorbell.
We scoped the neighborhood for another target. I noticed signs of life in a house at the far end of the dead-end street. Richard got the bag ready, then ran me through the procedure.
My heart was pounding as if I was about to jump off the high diving board, but Richard didnât need to know that.
âYeah, yeah,â I said. âI got it. Itâs not that hard.â
I grabbed the bag and the matches from him. I said, âYou ready?â
He nodded, held the camera up to his eye and then went, âAaand...Action!â
I took off across the street. I almost tripped on my shoelace, but there was no way I was stopping to tie it. I stumbled up the steps. I put the bag on the welcome mat and lit a match.
A breeze blew it out.
I tried againâbut this time I put the match out myself. What was I thinking? The mat was made of straw or something. If a spark landed on it, it would go up in flames for sure. Thatâs all I needed.
I pushed the mat out of the way. The people who lived there had obviously been using it to cover a big crack in the concrete. I put the bag back down on the porch. My hands were shaking so hard by nowI had to light four matches before one worked.
The bag whooshed up into flames. I didnât expect such a big fire. It made me jump. I knew Richard must have been laughing his face off at that, but I couldnât let it bother me. I pulled myself together and rang the doorbell.
I wanted to take off right then, but I didnât. No way was I going to run if Richard hadnât run. I didnât want to look like a chicken. I put my ear up to the door and listened.
A couple of seconds passed. No sound. I rang again.
Bingo.
Almost right away, I heard footsteps bouncing down the stairs.
I turned to runâand almost fell flat on my face. I jerked my leg forward but couldnât move my right foot. I looked down. My shoelace was stuck in the crack in the concrete. I tried to pull it free, but the knot at the end was rammed in there good.
Someone inside said, âComing! Coming!â Even if Iâd taken my shoe off right away, Iâd still have been nailed. I had no time to run.
That stupid bag was still burning. I suddenly remembered I didnât get the hose ready. Lot of good it would do me now.
I had to put the fire out before I got caught.
I blew on the bag. That just fed the flame.
I thought about throwing the whole thing into the bushes, but I canned that idea pretty quick. The weather had been so dry lately that the place would burn down for sure.
The lock on the door clicked open.
Why was the bag taking so long to go out? Youâd swear it was the Olympic flame or something. A thought flashed through my mind. Richard probably stuffed the bag full of extra paper when I wasnât looking. He might have even soaked it in lighter fluid for all I knew. I wouldnât have put it past him.
I tried to spit on it, but my mouth had gone completely dry. That always happens when Iâm in