26. It Seemed Like a Good Idea At the Time…
Amy decides she could use a stiff drink. She picks up the bottle and examines it. “General Throckmorton’s Private Reserve.” A very serious looking military man appears on the label, attired in full dress regalia. Below him is the legend “Spirited Spirits. 1 M Proof.” 1 M? Amy thinks a moment. “A proof is half a percent alcohol by volume. One proof is barely alcoholic. An M, she recalls from math class, is a metric prefix indicating one million. A million proof? That isn’t even conceivable; the most proof anything can be is 200, indicating 100% alcohol, pure unadulterated ethanol. You can no more have more than 200 proof than you can give 110% effort.”
Amy looks askance at the bottle, then unstops it. Sinister whorls of evaporated liquid float out the neck of the bottle. Amy carefully picks the bottle up, brings the mouth of the bottle to her nose, and sniffs.
The supernaturally supercharged particles of alcohol penetrate the mucous membrane of her nose and make their way directly to her brain. In an instant, Amy is the drunkest she has ever been in her life, her blood alcohol concentration skyrocketing as the particles disperse throughout her bloodstream.
Amy begins talking to herself, slurring her speech. “This stubid house with ids stubid door is keepin me from ma goo fren Shannononon. I gotta finda wayta get inna dere.” She looks around, her vision blurring. She can see the coal embers. “Thas it! Ill burn the whole stubid thing down. Then id’ll be nice n flat an I can see Shannononon…”
Amy reaches out to grab an ember with her bare hand. Under ordinary circumstances this would be very stupid, and Amy would wake up the next day with a hangover and a burnt hand. Now, however, having nowhere else to infuse Amy’s well-pickled body, the ultra alcohol is starting to seep out through her pores, moistening her skin with intensely flammable liquid. The alcohol on her skin quickly ignites, and in a flash her entire body is consumed. Fortunately for Amy, the alcohol is infused so thoroughly that the process is quick. In a split second, Amy’s entire body combusts, sending a puff of smoke flying upward and leaving a black sooty statue in the shape of Amy in its wake. A pair of white eyeballs blink confusedly for a moment, before the whole pile collapses in on itself, starting from the bottom of what were once Amy’s feet and crumbling upward to the top of Amy’s former head. Now all that remains of Amy is a pile of soot on the ground and a cloud of vapor floating up into the stratosphere.
Amy is in no state to continue this adventure or her life.