Huevos de Fuego

What most people don't realize is that law is quite possibly the most boring occupation you could possibly do on a daily basis. You know those service contracts you see from time to time? Look on the back. Go ahead, I'll wait. You see all that little writing on the back? Yeah, some moron like me spent 2,321 billable hours writing that shit. And you know what's funny about it? Almost all of it is necessary because some idiot did whatever the little print on the back tells you not to do.

Law is extremely reactionary.

For instance, I worked for the State way back when. When we went through orientation, we were given a handbook. Under the rules section, it stated that you could not bring your kids to work.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Who the fuck needs to be told that you can't bring your kids to work? Apparently, someone had in fact decided to bring their kids to work. And since it wasn't against 'the rules' they weren't sure how to deal with it.

So they had to write up a rule. I think it was Plato that said in 'The Republic' that a state's measure of civilization is inversely proportional to the amount of laws that state has. Or something like that.

Law is the examination and application or rules. Doesn't seem so exciting now, does it? Yeah, I know, in the latest 'Law and Order' Jack McCoy got the bad guy to slip up on the stand. It never happens in real life. There are no Perry Mason moments. Just a lot of reading of shit that you could go a lifetime of happily not knowing.

Anyway, the point of the foregoing is that I'm often mentally bored out of my mind. It's just tough to get real excited about that case from 1983 where the insurer was successful because his claim was filed within the statute of limitations. Don't lie, you wanted to puke after you read that last sentence, didn't you?

So by the end of the day, my mind is typically fried because you can't read shit like that day in and day out and be normal. It's not humanly possible. So what does my mind do?

Fantasize. It takes vacations. It was one such vacation that gave rise to the 'Legend of the Huevos de Fuego.'

I was sitting in my car, in bumper to bumper traffic, making my way home like I do most days. Some perfectly pitched person on the radio making a claim that I could have a better life if I just spent 16 months in a Microsoft Certification program.

Then I thought, and to this day, I have no idea why my mind went here, 'what if I had balls of fire?' And the more I thought about it, I thought it would be the Coolest. Thing. Ever.

Seriously, how awesome would it be if you literally had balls of fire? The chick factor alone gives it huge upside. Yeah, sure, the ladies have all heard the 'I've got big balls line' (and who hasn't heard that story before) - but can you imagine the following (and I did imagine the following):

Sitting at a bar, and some chick says 'what makes you so special?'

And you pull down your pants, and this intense glow emanates from your man region. Seriously. Fucking. Awesome. But no, that was not enough of a mental vacation, I had to go farther.

Yes, that's right, my Huevos de Fuego (because it sounds so much fucking cooler in Spanish), could actually shoot fire. So not only were they made of fire, they could burn a motherfucker too. Why this appealed to me, I just don't know.

Still my mind was not satisfied. I used to live in New Jersey. New Jersey has a section known as the Pine Barrens. It's millions of acres of nothing but sandy soil and pine trees. Then I remembered that fire is necessary for pine trees to grow because pine cones are heat activated. Yup. I went there.

The Legend basically goes like this, the Native Americans passed the tale of the 'Night of the Consuming Fire' down, from story-teller to story teller. One group, living on the wrong side of the Delaware, a.k.a. New Jersey, tell of a 'Night that was Really Unbearably Fucking Hot So We Packed Up Our Squaws and Moved to Florida to Live with Our Elders.' The other group, on the right side of the Delaware, a.k.a. Pennsylvania, tell of the 'Night of the Superbright Light That Woke Our Asses Up Which Led to a Bunch of Kids 9 Months Later Because We Were All Up Anyway.'

Of course, I'm the central part of the Legend. My balls singlehandedly (or double ball-edly?) laid waste to a vast portion of Southern New Jersey, thus creating the Pine Barrens.

Yes, rereading what I just wrote gives me great doubts as to my sanity. But it gets worse. Much worse.

That night, my wife and I went out with a great friend of ours. We're sitting around having a few drinks and talking about something. Then it happened. And unfortunately, I'm given to moments that for whatever reason, I just say things. It's like I have no volition, the words come out.

"You know, I have Huevos de Fuego."

Both my friend and my wife look at me.

So I told them about the Legend of Huevos de Fuego. I left out the part of the Native Americans because even I could sense that maybe, just maybe, this was a little too far out there.