Crazy Henry Fights Wildfires.

 

Crazy Henry enjoys reading the newspapers. He never has gotten used to an online newspaper subscription.

So when I went over to his place the other day I was not surprised to see newspapers strewn all over his living room. I didn't mind in the least; it meant I didn't have to take off my shoes -- I could just walk all over the newsprint with my dirty shoes.

"What's new?" I asked Crazy Henry. 

"Have you heard about those terrible wildfires out in California?" he asked.

"Yeah" I said. "It's a tough break for all those people that have to leave their homes and then come back to find nothing left but ashes."

"I have cousins out in California" he said.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Where?"

"Oh" he waved his hand vaguely, "they're out there somewhere -- my dad's sisters moved out there back in the 60's to sell swimming pool filters -- they all had a million kids and they're scattered around places like Sacramento and San Francisco."

"Any of 'em in the wildfire danger zone?" I asked.

Instead of answering me, Crazy Henry dived into his bedroom and came back out with a large and floppy black notebook.

"I'm gonna call my aunts right now and find out!" he said fiercely, as if someone was trying to stop him from doing it.

"You go, girl!" I told him encouragingly. In an emergency, we're all feminists.

Naturally he couldn't find his cell phone so he borrowed mine. 

In a few minutes he'd found out that he had a dozen cousins right in the path of the wildfires. 

"I'm gonna volunteer to go out there and fight them wildfires" he told me when he had hung up.

I didn't doubt him for a minute -- Crazy Henry does everything he thinks about doing out loud. If he said to me "There must be some truth to that saying about pigs can fly" I would expect him to immediately procure a shote and toss it out his window to see how far it would glide.

This was one time, however, when I refused to be carried away by his enthusiasm and altruism.

"Good luck with that" I told him. "I'm staying right here where nothing burns but barbecues."

Crazy Henry didn't mind my craven attitude. He's big-hearted that way. Or doesn't recognize anyone else in the world that can be a hero but himself. I've never been quite sure which it is.

"First thing" he said to me as he scattered newspapers around looking for his shoes, "is to get a hold of some good firefighting equipment."

His shoes were actually on his dining room table. When he got them on he asked if I wanted to go with him to get his firefighting stuff.

I told him no thanks; I'd stay at his place and look for the comics and then do the crossword if I could locate it.

He was gone for several hours. He came back with a large box full of boxes of baking soda and bottles of  apple cider vinegar.

"What's all that?" I asked him.

"Remember in school when we made those volcanoes with the baking soda and vinegar? Well, you combine the two to put out fires as well!" 

"Who told you that?" I asked him.

"It's just common sense. C'mon in the kitchen and we'll test it out."

So we went into Crazy Henry's kitchen, where he started a small fire out of newspapers in a coffee can. Then he poured a whole box of baking soda into an empty plastic gallon milk carton and on top of that poured in a bottle of apple cider vinegar.

Boy, did it fizz!

It not only put out the coffee can fire, but knocked over the salt and pepper shakers and blew an empty Mason jar right off of the counter onto the floor -- where it shattered into smithereens. Crazy Henry was exultant. I cleaned up the shattered Mason jar.

"See how good that works!" he yelled at me in glee. "Now I'm ready to go fight wildfires!"

Something got into me just then, and I had to say it.

"You know what works even better than vinegar and baking soda?" I asked him.

"No, what?"

"Mayonnaise" I told him earnestly. "You know how it gets bubble gum out of hair? It also puts out any kind of fire."

"No kiddin?" 

"No kiddin."

Crazy Henry rushed back out to corner the mayonnaise market. But I decided not to stick around for when he got back. He has a nice big fireplace in the living room, laid with wood from the corner convenience store, and I'm betting he's going to light a fire in there and then try to put it out with mayonnaise. I didn't wanna be around for that. 

Besides, the smell of the apple cider vinegar he used with the baking soda made me think of the apple cider donuts they sell over at Aamodt's Apple Orchard this time of year -- so I decided to go get a dozen or so. 

I'd bring some over to Crazy Henry's tomorrow -- if he hasn't left for California yet.