Charlie dreamed about fire. The flames cheered for him, and raised him up as their god. He had the power to raise them and the power to destroy them in waves, like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia wearing the wizard’s hat, controlling the water.

The next day, when he took out the garbage in only his pajama bottoms, he heard a “psst!” coming from the back gate next door. Crap.

He walked silently over. An eyeball peered through a crack in the barely open gate. “What?” he whispered.

“I have a plan.”
“Nu-uh, look what your plan did last night! I almost got canned!” he whispered forcefully.
“But you didn’t,” she breathed. “Just stick with me. I won’t let you down, Sugar.”

She left the crack in the gate and I shook my head and went inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted anything that had to do with her plan.

But it was enticing the way she looked at my naked torso, hungrily. And the ideas she comes up with feed the hunger inside me to burn. That hunger was small now, but would grow during the day.

I might not refuse.