The flames were even more beautiful than I told you they would be, weren't they? The way they seemed to melt down the side of the roller rink, stretching themselves simultaneously towards the sky above, and also to you, laying in the gravel parking lot only a few yards away. You must have stayed outside of the burning building for five whole minutes, not moving an inch, simply staring with your mouth open and your face dripping sweat. It's a good thing the police and firemen travel so gaudily with all that high pitched racket, or else you may not have been able to slip away in time! The tractor proved to be faithful and strong, carrying you headlong into the belly of the Roller Rink in which you had fed so many years of your life. You were giggling (do you remember?) when you leapt from the leather bound spring loaded seat and rolled out onto the newly waxed oval skate floor (a job well done, even to the end). You even went so far as to twirl and twist as if you were one of the careless youths who so often frequent, or should I say frequented, the establishment. But you quickly realized you were no such youth, and as the tractor carrying 60 gallons of gasoline collided with the old fashioned furnace which you so often were made to wipe clean of dust and gum, a new sense of vitality and pride arose from within you. But of course you couldn't let that feeling linger long! The burst was so loud and sudden that you were knocked from your make believe skates onto the ground, and within an instant, the large hollow building was no longer a roller rink, but simply a series of walls vainly trying to contain a fire from enveloping the rest of the world. You ran as quickly as your old bones would move inside of your skin, and by the time you made it out of the building and into the moonlight, the fatigue overcame you. You collapsed to the gravel parking lot and struggled for what seemed like hours to catch your breath. It may have been a lack of oxygen to your brain, but when you looked up and saw the fire coaxing the Rink to its knees, you could have sworn the flames were smiling at you. You know what it was? They were proud of you for taking the first step towards your goal of bringing the joy of donuts to the world. Even the thick black smoke reaching into the night seemed to be moving with a touch of pride.
As you hurried through the streets away from the fire that was washing clean your past, you were already planning what move to make next. But before you could devote your energy to the next phase of the plan, you knew you had to rest and reflect on what it meant to have burned down the rink. Without the tractor, there would have been no fire. And without the fire, with all it's charity and compassion, there would still have been a Rink, solid as rock and shaped in perfect angles. Therefore, you headed directly to the 24-hour donut and coffee place on Lincoln Ave. and ordered a dozen donuts, six for you and six for the your ally the inferno. Your six were delicious; a glazed to begin with, then three jelly filled rolls, a chocolate, then an apple cinnamon to end. But the fire's six were perhaps the most glorious donuts you have ever had the pleasure of knowing with your tastebuds in your life. If pressed, you still couldn't recall exactly what sort of donuts they were, could you? They could have been coconut or maple just as easily as they could have been creme-filled. It was something about the way they slid down your throat that reminded you of more than just a snack, but of the wonders of your own childhood, and the possibility of your future. Of the world's future.
But, as you know, your wife wouldn't understand such romantic feelings as these, and it was a bit tricky explaining the next morning why your clothes were stained with soot and smelled of fire....
