A Winter's Tale #1: Clearing The Driveway

Snow doesn’t really burn, did you know that? It melts, yes, but then it sort of puts itself out. It certainly doesn’t spread, it melts itself and then just kinda sits there. It’s weird, you know, even at this age you’re constantly learning new things.
I wake up and look out my window; it has snowed another eight inches or so over night. This brings total accumulation to over two feet. My car sits pathetically in the driveway, almost completely buried. I’m going to need to clear the driveway now that its stopped snowing. God forbid we get some freezing rain before I clear it and it all freezes up. Time to earn my keep.
I prepare for the extreme temperature, the biting winter cold. I put on my compression shorts, a pair of thick pants, two pairs of socks, my boots, a thick shirt, a hooded sweatshirt, two pairs of gloves, and my awesomest winter hat. I head into the garage, grab the snow shovel and I’m ready.
A minute and a half later and I’m sweating profusely. I’ve cleared roughly a square foot of driveway; my back aches, my arms are burning with effort and my legs are shaking. I take off my hat and gloves then sit on an overturned box in the garage looking at my work so far. I’m a little tired but, all told, not bad. As I look on dumbly, the snow from the top of my car shakes then quietly slides off and falls to the ground, perfectly filling up the space of driveway I had just cleared. Son of a bitch!
There has to be an easier way to do this, I just know it. These people with their shovels, they’re a bunch of chumps. I’m going to clear the driveway and I’m going to do it without the backbreaking labor. A light bulb appears above my head. An idea! I walk to the back of the garage, searching. Aha! I see its black nozzle sticking up above the rubbish. I pull out the red tank, it’s too light. Empty. Shit. Not a problem, I remember that our next door neighbor, a weird old man who doesn’t like to wear a shirt when he’s outside, has like eight tanks of gasoline in his garage for some reason.
I walk over to his house and knock on the door. A minute later he’s standing in front of me in the doorway, his bare flabby chest roughly the same color as the snow outside. What is this guy’s deal? Gross. Anyways, time for the business at hand. I ask him if I could borrow some gasoline from him as we’re out. “Sure no problem,” he says. He walks back into the house and I can see him from the door as he pulls open the TV cabinet and returns with a gallon tank of gasoline. “So what do you need the gas for?” he asks.
Shit. Ok, you knew this was going to happen, don’t panic. “It’s for my…” I pause. Quick, come up with a good lie. “It’s for my driveway.” Wow. Good lie, dumb ass. “Hey shut up! I didn’t hear you coming up with anything better.” Hmmm, really shouldn’t have said that out loud. He looks at me quizzically for a long while. I try to smile my most convincing smile, still hoping to salvage the situation but instead I make that face you make when you’re trying really hard not to sneeze. He shrugs and hands me the red plastic tank. Sweet.
I start my work by pouring out a perimeter around the driveway with the gas. The yellowish liquid instantly seeps down into the snow, making an ugly line all around our driveway. Now I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think that I was being foolish here. I was doing this with all due safety. In case something went wrong, I made sure I had a fire extinguisher. It was in the house. Somewhere. I think. I mean who doesn’t have a fire extinguisher in their house, right? Anyways, if anything went wrong I’d just go inside and find it. Besides, its fucking snow, right? What’s the worst that could happen?
After making my perimeter to contain the fire, I poured out neat, straight lines going from the edge of the lawn, over my car, all the way to my neighbor’s lawn. As I held the match in my hand I thought to myself, God damn I’m a genius.