Wife on fire
My mate Darryl is a Kiwi. He's built like a Maori warrior, has a very dry sense of humour and rarely smiles. I like him as he always says exactly what he's thinking, without any varnish whatsoever. Most people fear him when they meet for the first time.

The old Wall Street bar/nightclub in Tokyo was a favourite place for Darryl and me to chug back a couple of beers, usually just the two of us on a bar crawl. On this particular evening, our ladies had tagged along too.

The venue had lots of candles precariously placed in the seating area, and Mrs chart cat has very long hair. She was leaning over, talking to a friend when her hair wafted over one of the lit candles and caught fire. She didn't notice at first, but Darryl saw it almost immediately.

He glanced at me then --somewhat perplexingly-- he just laughed instead of telling my wife that her head was ablaze. In the split second after, I shouted at Mrs chart cat, but she panicked, turned round and ran screaming straight into Darryl, spewing smoke and fire like a tiny demon. Within seconds, accrid hair smoke had created a noxious fug around the table. Darryl calmly grabbed her and smacked her round the head, extinguishing the flames in one giant-sized swipe of his hand. Dazed and confused, she span round and thanked Darryl for his act of kindness which had saved her from too much damage (she wasn't injured at all, luckily), to which he bluntly replied

"Yeah, well... the smoke was annoying me, I couldn't see my drink"

I think he meant it too. Good old Darryl.
( chart cat has an itch, Mon 13 Apr 2009, 9:04, 1 reply)

haha
I lolled.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Tue 14 Apr 2009, 12:04, closed)