Heather Lima, contributor
Go to every fucking gas station until you come across the perfect decal that says, “Hey, I’m original as fuck.” This will ensure that everyone is going to be fucking with your fire game.
Take your lighter to a crowded bar and offer your Bic to every drunk person who needs a lighter. Make sure your lighter is the sluttiest girl at the party. Take the safety off, trust me. Make sure it’s around to light everyone’s cancer stick, joint, bowl, ugly bangs, or unnecessarily long eyelashes. Make sure you smoke everything and drink everything. It might look like you have two lighters, that means you’re doing it right. You just doubled your chances of success.
You’re probably waking up now hungover as fuck, maybe you puke. You search around for your lighter, maybe you need to smoke a bowl to cope with the pain. THC does help nausea. Your lighter is nowhere to be found. Now you’re wondering if maybe you were too good at what you set out to do. You’re wrong. Go into your roommate’s room check the jeans; it’s in his/her/they/alien whatever pocket. Go outside and smoke a bowl or eight. At this point you might start thinking you have found “the one.” This original mass-produced lighter might be lucky. You’re wrong.
Now that you have bonded with your lighter and it has found its way back to you once, you will be teeming with confidence. After all, someone who can use a Bic to its end has their shit together, no doubt. Ride that wave, flaunt your lighter. Get one of those douchey bungee cord things and BDSM the shit out of your lighter. Bondage is super in, since forever. Some people might think it’s annoying to light your cigarette with a Bic attached to human. But you’ve become attached to your bic, after all why wouldn’t you put a leash on “the one?”
It’s getting pretty serious. You might be planning a romantic night in with your original Bic and your sack of sexy weed. Quite the threesome — who could blame you? But of course your roommates want to go to a party, and you’re going too. it’s important to mingle. Take the Bic, but leave the bungee cord. Loosen up. When you get to the party, look around for the drunk girl chain-smoking in the corner. She will keep you on track.
It happened again: you wake up and roll over and get a handful of sheets. You’re alone. You try to recollect the nefarious events that took place the night before. You remember the drunk girl chain-smoking cigarettes in the corner. You realize you got her number after she puked on you and made you promise to call her. Go to your phone, and contact her immediately. I know you don’t want to. But things have changed now. Call her, don’t bother with any of that back and forth “hey” text bullshit. Time is of the essence.
You’re exhausted, you’ve been tossing and turning all night, replaying how it could have ended up like this. You didn’t even care about this drunk girl, and now you have to meet her and somehow bring up the lighter in organic conversation. She looks haggard. This isn’t her first time taking someone else’s lighter home. Your blood curdles. You try some small talk. She proceeds to light a cigarette. That is when your eyes fall on the lighter in her hands. You do all but yank it out of her dirty claws.
At this point you’re feeling pretty good about the connection you have with your lighter. It’s more than just a flame. It lights up your days. Enjoy your time with it. Time is precious.
Wow! Soak it in. Buy some hemp string and wrap it around your lighter. This will not only make it more desirable to lighter pocket thieves, it will also extend the time you have together in this life. You’re a fucking firebender; everyone wants what you got. People always ask YOU for the lighter, cause your just that kind of guy. Bitches love it when you light their cigarettes and say, “Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes.” I’m telling you to light everyone’s cigarette regardless of where they land on the hotness Richter scale. Smoke weed with everybody and get too high.
Check your pockets.