I am hiding in the toilet using the cigarette lighter . . .

So I have purchased my plastic model battle tank; I know if I am caught questions will be asked; questions I cannot adequately explain.

Slowly I melt the plastic of the thing strip I must pull apart to stretch the plastic to make the thin whiplike aerials that allow radio signals to be sent to the tank . . .

As the plastic melts; suddenly a one inch blob of molten plastic drops off the rod and lands on my thigh. I can do nothing. I cannot stop it burning, I cannot think to throw toilet water on it; I cannot scream for help . . .

I just sit there for a very long time and wait until the plastic solidifies. I forget where my plastic model tank ended up, after all I had to slowly peel of the chunk of skin that was attached to my plastic blob.

Today I still bear the scar on my leg; and other scars on my psyche : )

/ hugz ; )