"This is so boring" I said,as I watched the flamethrowers toss their torches high in the air. The oldest flamethrower, the one with the huge, twitching mustache, asked me if I wanted to try. Of course, being the certifiably crazy person I am, I decided to try it. As I started to juggle, a peregrine falcon swooped overhead. Suddenly, I noticed that the flamethrower was missing. He raced up behind me and frantically poured a bucket of water on me. It had soaked my new dress, and I was shrugged and told me that my arms were on fire. I looked down, but I saw no burn marks. Then, my hands burst into flaming fireballs, and shot sparks into the sky. The funny thing was, I couldn't feel it. Not the sparks, the burning or the flames. I was immune to fire. The flamethrowers leaned in close to me and told mevthat I was one of them now.