When You Are Engulfed in Flames

by David Sedaris

“For God’s sake, Phillip, would it kill you to just ask somebody?” I lie on my couch, thinking, Why don’t you ask? How come Phillip has to do it? But these things are often more complicated than they seem.

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There’s no denying that children were better dressed back then: no cutoffs, no T-shirts, and velveteen for everybody. The boys looked like effeminate homosexuals, and the girls like Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

Ha

What looks good now is guaranteed to embarrass you twenty years down the line, which is, of course, the whole problem with fashion.

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Chafed and bony, by early June my natural bottom resembled a rusted coin slot.

Lol

“I was up and back to the fucking terlet six times last night. Shit so hard I think I sprained my asshole.”

Hahaha

“He wants to give me a bath,” she told me. “He wants to see my twat.” It was shocking to hear this word from a seventy-three-year-old woman, and in response I winced. “What?” she said. “You think I ain’t got one?”

Lol

This was the consequence of seeing too much and understanding the horrible truth: No one is safe. The world is not manageable.

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The hut was built by a man I’ll call Jackie, who used to live there with his wife and his wife’s adult daughter, Clothilde, who was retarded.

Ha

If there’s not an insect killing time on the ceiling, there’s surely a mite staring out from the bath towel, or a parasite resting on the banks of my bloodstream. I’m reminded too that, however repellent, each of these creatures is fascinating, and worthy of a nature show.

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It was a trapped fly, and as I bent forward to get a closer look, a spider rushed forth and carried it screaming to a little woven encampment situated between the wall and the window casing. It was like watching someone you hate getting mugged: three seconds of hard-core violence, and when it was over you just wanted it to happen again.

Hahaha

may have been a Boy Scout for only two years, but the motto stuck with me forever: Be Prepared. This does not mean “Be Prepared to Ask People for Shit,” but “Think Ahead, and Plan Accordingly, Especially in Regard to Your Vices.”

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In the end, I stopped on my own. One night without a drink became two nights, and so on and so on. The first few weeks were kind of shaky, but a lot of it was just me being dramatic. As for the writing, I simply changed my schedule and worked in the daytime rather than in the evening.

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When other people drank, I tried to be happy for them, and when they got drunk and fell down, I found that I didn’t have to try. My happiness was genuine and unforced. Look at what I’m missing, I’d think.

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I’ve learned to accept the glass of champagne. It’s easier to take it, then quietly pass it to Hugh, than it is to make a big deal about it. Other than that, I don’t give much thought to alcohol anymore. I don’t think about drugs, either, not unless something new comes along, something I never got a chance to try. The point, I guess, is that I was able to quit. And if I was able to quit drinking and taking drugs, perhaps I’d be able to quit smoking as well.

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Though I wish it were otherwise, I’m actually a very intolerant person. When I see a drunk or a drug addict begging for money, I don’t think, There but for the grace of God go I, but, I quit, and so can you. Now get that cup of nickels out of my face.

Ha. Me too

At the pool I currently go to, one of the regulars is a woman with Down syndrome. She’s fairly heavy and wears an old-fashioned swimsuit, the sort with a ruffled skirt. Then there’s this bathing cap that straps beneath her chin and is decorated with rubber flowers. Odd is the great satisfaction I take whenever I beat her from one end to the other. “I won three out of four,” I told Hugh the first time she and I swam together. “I mean I really creamed her.” “Let me get this straight,” he said. “She’s obese. She’s as old as you are. And she has Down syndrome?” “Yes, and I beat her. Isn’t that great!” “Did she even know you were having a race?”

Hahaha