Back in his apartment, Jack rubbed his wrapped palm back and forth on his thigh for half an hour in a vain attempt to scratch it.

 

“Stupid…hemp wrap.”

 

He tore the green bandage off and threw it in the trash. There were little green flakes stuck in his wound that he would have to pick out one by one.

 

“I make it myself so you know it’s good bruddah” Jack jested in a very poorly executed Jamaican accent.

 

Jack looked around his apartment to see his wet clothes still on the floor. Instead of looking for three quarters, he opted to place all of his clothes over the large heating duct next to his bed. Jack then decided it was probably a good idea to make himself chicken soup and a bag of popcorn (the two easiest things in the world for a cullinarily challenged bachelor to make) and sit down and watch T.V. for a little while.

 

The combination of the smells of soup and popcorn was overwhelming, making the whole apartment smell like a homeless shelter/movie theater. It was this overwhelming smell that caused the overheated heating duct to go completely unnoticed until Jack’s bed caught on fire and the smoke reached the living room.
Jack looked up to see smoke billowing over his head.

 

“Shit.”