Non-Pyro Fire--Don't try this EVER!

The next and last time I almost burned down the garage had more to do with idiocy and less to do with my pyromaniacal tendencies. I was in high school at the time and had pretty much outgrown my fascination with the pretty yellow flames. Being rather klutsy by nature and by practice I managed to spill some light blue paint on my nice white jeans. I loved those jeans and couldn't afford new ones so I tried to remove the blue with some paint thinner. I must admit it did its job, it made the blue thinner, bigger, but thinner. Now instead of a semi-small blotch of paint, I had a stain roughly the shape and size of Alaska. Well, if a little thinner could do that, why not use even more? I put the blotchy pants in a metal pan and added the rest of the gallon of paint thinner to let them soak. Remember the previously mentioned idiocy? After letting them soak while I watched "Car 54, Where Are You?" or some-such drivel, went out the the garage to see how the thinner had completely removed any tinge of blue. Okay, sot so much. Now the pants were nothing but a thinner-soaked mottled mess. What to do? What to do? I know! Burn them in the stove! I threw the dripping jeans into the stove that Dad had made (see last blog) and set them on fire. Let me tell you, paint thinner added to denim fabric doesn't just make a fire. Oh no, no, nonono. One match and you have a FIRE!!! (boldfaced, underlined, 24 pt font in red)! The stove began to glow. First red, then yellow, then WHITE! I was quite sure concrete couldn't burn but was beginning to doubt it. I was certain the sheer magnitude of the heat going up the stovepipe was going to set fire to the roof. This may have been the point when I promised the Lord I'd go on a mission. I was ready to become a monk, join a convent, absolutely anything to not burn THIS garage to the ground too. I don't know if He took pity on me or was having a good chuckle, but the stove/barrel started to cool down and the fire eventually went out. Every bit of paint had burned off the stove so it was now blackened and no longer the pretty silver color it had been. I re-painted the thing so Dad was none the wiser about my latest attempt at arson. That must have been the culmination of my semi-stellar career as a pyro because I don't remember even being tempted to do anything along those lines again.