“Why Kerosene?”

Note: The following is a fictional story created in September of 2019, when I witnessed a vehicle that had caught on fire laying by the side of the road. It by no means reflects the nature of the author. Please keep in mind that it is not intended to offend or oppose any viewers.

The smell of burnt rubber wafted through the air as Jannelle’s foot crashed through the brakes and the pick-up truck screeched to a halt. Her raspberry-blonde hair flung forward like an enthusiastic arm and smacked the windshield before receding and taking shelter on her sticky, sherbet-flavored lip gloss. However, she didn’t even bat an eye, because right in front of her was a dreadful scene that plastered a slab of surprise all over her face, before it twisted itself into a wry, sadistic smile. “And that, ladies and gentlemen,” she croaked gleefully, as if her audience was a crowd full of adoring fans instead of horrified customers and irritated policemen, “is how you make an entrance.”

The sound of sirens could be heard from miles away. Their source was the two police cars who had arrived on the scene, each with three policemen huddled inside who were in the middle of forcing Jannelle’s tiny wrists into handcuffs that were all-too-easy to slip out of. Orange caution signs and yellow rubber cones were already sprinkled around the perimeter of the broken shards of glass and metal, as well as charred pieces of brick and concrete. After Jannelle was fully immobilized, one of the policemen whipped out his transceiver to release an update to his comrades back at the station. “Yeah,” he grimaced, confirming whatever the man on the other end of the line had stated. From where she was kneeling, Jannelle could hear a muffled voice on the other end, the fluctuation and energy in his voice seeming boundless. “This madwoman rammed her truck into the side of a Walmart! Can you believe this?!” he continued. The side of a Walmart huh… Jannelle thought to herself. Truth be told, she didn’t even know where she rammed her truck, so this was news to her as well. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man holding a bottle of kerosene. Like, the flammable stuff? That could be of some use to me… After hopping around like a gazelle after a hill of termites, along with a few death threats in sign language, Jannelle managed to convince the man to pour the contents of his precious bottle all over the back of her truck, and then do the inevitable. Whilst the policeman was still distracted, the raspberry-blonde’s accomplice slunk away toward the back of the truck. Of course, everyone who had gathered around the scene by now and formulated a ring saw the entire thing, but not one of them said a word. Chances were, they too were curious about the misdeeds of the two strangers. Before the man went through with his part of the deal however, he mouthed one question. A single question that, unbeknownst to him, would change the fate of the parking lot he was about to set ablaze. That single question made him wonder what he was doing with his life, for it to end up with him obeying the rash orders of a seventeen-year-old high-schooler who seemingly had nothing better to do on a scorching Saturday afternoon. He heard himself whisper; oh it was the faintest of whispers, so quiet that the breeze that would eventually prove to be fuel to his flames almost spoke over him. “Why kerosene?”