"Are you SURE this is safe?" she asked. I

"Are you SURE this is safe?" she asked. I replied coolly, "Babe, sometimes I'm right, sometimes I'm wrong. But this time I'm right." Thus begins the story of a time I was wrong.

was a word that fake-sophisticated people smuggled from a European bakcpack trips to the US. Well, my bottle rockets were aimed at their faces, the fuse was lit and

the alternative bombs were in place in case my first plan backfired. Speaking of backfiring, did I leave the back left burner of the gas stove on? No matter, Self, focus on the

bomb in front of you. I gotta get this one set up properly and soon. Ok, the manual says the blue wire connected to the chicken. Chicken! Damn foreign bombs and translations. Now

I began to question the wisdom of ordering a bomb from a Chinese internet address. I rummaged in the packing material and found a rubber chicken. After inserting the blue wire into

a red hole a light came on. Then it went off again. "DAMN!" I flipped the Chinese chicken bomb over. A small stamp read: Guam. "DAMN!" Even the Chinese are outsourcing. The light

came back on and the Chinese chicken bomb started to get so hot, I dropped it on the rug, which was also made in Guam. It landed on its drumsticks and began vibrating sideways

orange glaze melting off it in a citrus plasma creating a swirling vortex of black holes where it burned through the very soul of the carpet. Good thing it's a rental. I sheathed

my cardboard tube for extra-long paper towels and crossed my arms. Close enough, I thought to myself, gazing over the ruined carpet. I hoped they'd believe it was orange juice.