"Hey, does the number 5 in the little red bit mean it's more flammable or less flammable?", I asked.
Lor just shrugged, "I dunno, maybe get the one that says '3'?".
A lady with a pram, passing us on her way down isle 2, looked alarmed, and quickened her pace.
"Mares!" Lor said and jerked her head toward the lady.
"I so don't care", I said, but feeling a tad foolish.
We took our items to the checkout and the teenage employee watched them slowly roll down the conveyor belt, gave us a deadpan look, and started booping them through.
Foil. Aerasol deoderant. Sparklers. Matches.
He was completely onto us.
We stared back as innocently as one can look, purchasing only ingredients for a light explosive.
It was our first time making a "potato" (the code word we used in case the Government intercepted our emails with their expert word-detection spy software).
We carefully constructed the potato and stuck in a sparkler for the fuse.
We placed it gently into Lor's bag, jumped in my old car and made our way to our spot. The Warehouse.
The Warehouse was this amazing old brick factory in the 'burbs of Melbourne. It was enormous. There were multiple buildings on the huge site, as well as a massive quarry out back. It had been abandoned for years, filled with graffiti and empty bottles. There were old tracks inside for the carts of bricks to go through the factory, abandoned rusted-out cars, and huge things to climb on and explore.
We loved going there to do all sorts of stuff. Mainly hang out and satisfy our teenage curiosities. On occasion we'd bump into someone else there, but usually it was this enormous space that we could retreat to, through a space in an old fence and just be ourselves for a few hours.
It was amazing.
On this special day, we crawled through the fence and looked around until we found a good spot. A good spot for the potato.
In the groove of an old train track, we gently placed the potato with the sparkler sticking out of the top and got ready. We'd picked the spot because there was a large pile of bricks around 50 metres away that we could easily reach, if we ran to it, and jump behind.
We had no idea how this potato was gonna go down. We wanted to be safe. (If you recall from another post, I am phobic of amputation which obviously includes having ones limbs blown off.)
So we got ready, made sure the coast was clear for our mad dash, and lit the sparkler fuse.
Then we ran.
We got to the pile of bricks and jumped behind, ducking and peering over the top.
And we waited.
It seemed to take forever.
And then...simultaneous BANG-WHOOSH! Boy, the sound was incredible. It ricocheted around the walls of the old factory. Totally, epically awesome.
Lor and I grinned at each other, even though our run for the pile of bricks was a little over-cautious (we could have just taken a big step back).