Flashback Friday: Face Extinguisher

When my brother Smooth and I were teenagers, we found plenty of things to get in trouble with, especially on days that we got to roam like two birds set free from captivity in the church where our dad was pastor. On one particularly adventurous and unchaperoned day, Smooth decided it would be fun to mess around with the fire extinguisher located in the church kitchen. Removing it from the wall, he began to investigate the tank. Assuming there was some sort of safety clip engaged on the tank to prevent pastor kids from haphazardly releasing its inner substance, Smooth aimed the nozzle in my direction and called out, "Hey Fro (my nickname)!" Me, being the trusting unsuspecting brother turned in the direction of Smooth just as he pulled the trigger on the loaded red tank of face-blasting toxin. Point blank! The blast covered my face--eyes and mouth open in that very instant. Thick, white foam filled my vision and my lungs. I coughed up white foamy mucus for at least a half-hour. And Tasha, I'm positive that's why I still cough up so much phlegm to this day. So, blame it on Smooth!