I know you folks always blame me for everything when it goes all wrong. It's not always my fault you know.
There were six of us sharing a large apartment. We were young. We had parties every weekend. We had joy, we had fun.We had seasons in the sun. But the hills that we climbed; were just seasons out of time. Whatever that means.
Anyway, one weekend we played HOT or COLD. I don't know if you're familiar with the game. One person hides something, and the others try to find it. If they get near the item you say warm, luke warm, hot and so on until they find it. If they're away from the item you say cold, colder and so on.
We'd been drinking. We were happy and perhaps light-headed. It was my turn to hide an item. One of the girls thought it would be a great laugh to hide her underpants - brand new ones still in their packet!
Whilst they all had their eyes closed, I sneaked into the kitchen and put the pants in the oven.
They were useless at finding them. They were miles away. Might as well be in the next country or continent. I kept saying, "Cold ... Colder ... Even more colder ... Coldest ... Freezing ... Polar Regions Freezing Temperature!" But they could not find the girl's undergarment.
Then there was a funny smell from the kitchen. And black smoke. The smoke alarm went on shrieking.
How was I to know that someone had put something in the oven to bake?
I know you're blaming me right now!
I doubt the owner of the pants ever forgave me. They were sheer delicate see-through. She had bought them for her boy friend ... Not for her boy friend to wear ... For her to wear and ...
Oh go on ... blame me as usual.