Growing up, the biggest fear me and my friends had was falling into hot lava and/or having “the hot lava monster” get us. Keep in mind, there was no hot lava in Lemoore. No hot lava monsters, either.
This is going to be hard to explain, but on sidewalks there’s usually a line towards the edge. Well, the deal was, you had to walk on that ledge. If you fell into the gutter, well, you were fucked, because that was the lair of the hot lava and/or hot lava monster. If you crossed the line toward the sidewalk, you would get frozen or something. I can’t really remember. All I know is it wasn’t lava on the sidewalk side. The lava is what I remember.
So what the hell was our deal with hot lava? My closest contact with lava was the lava rocks in my neighbor’s lawn (those damn things were hell on bare feet). No family members had ever died in a fiery lava pit. And for the most part, this was all before Mount St. Helens erupted. If it was just me and my friends obsessed with hot lava, that would be one thing. But I’m pretty sure males across this country can remember their own hot lava games.
I don’t really have a point here. I just get mesmerized by my lava lamp sometimes, and these stupid thoughts erupt. Get it? Erupt? You can use that one if you want.
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