John Gafford

There's a knock at the door.

Wait, hold on.

Hold on.

Explain that again.

So now you take kitchen matches, the big wooden ones, right?

So you're holding the box and you take your finger and you hold a match on the top and then you flip it so it strikes and it lights in the air.

Now I'm going to do it as a 32-year-old kid.

Yeah, it lights in the air.

So we're doing this in the house, right, which is really responsible.

And there was a knock at our front door and we had these big wooden doors that were like a bitch to open, right?

Yeah.

So we go to open it.

I'm trying to get the door open, trying to get the door open.

And my buddy Corey, who was wearing me, tips me up, taps me on the shoulder.

I turn around and my living room's on fire.

Like drapes are on fire, couch is on fire, carpet's on fire.

Holy shit.

So the people at the front door were these two kind of juvenile delinquent dudes that my sister Mandy went to high school with.

And they were there to get a hose for a car wash.

So they run around the back and they put the fire out.