We once had a chance to form an imperishable rock band under the code name "Chance". There were five singers-guitarists and drummers, and your storyteller hung around in this rock band as a "specialist" in electronics and other soldering irons...
One day late in the evening we rehearsed in the basement of our club. It should be noted that our school is ancient and has a rich history, so the basements are large, dark and depressingly overhanging over those who like to walk there ... well, and the inscriptions on the walls are like "Kolchak - death".
So, a comrade of ours (in those days extremely restless, as they say about such people - "with an awl in the ass") wanted to study the adjoining to our "scene" basement rooms on the subject of the property located there and all sorts of antiques. Electric and any other light in these very rooms, of course, did not exist, and in order not to step on a deadly aspid or his droppings, he lit his way with a lighter...
Well, we sit quietly in the semi-darkness on the basement of our stage, rubbing "for life". And then our comrade-in-arms bursts out of the darkness, wheezing and grunting, mouth open, but he can't say anything, his eyes are popping out of his orbits and there's somehow no hair on his face (well, there are eyebrows and other mustaches)! Moreover, the skin on this very face is shrinking before our eyes, wrinkling and beginning to hang down in rags! The horror is unbelievable! To say that we were all frightened - nothing to say! The era of video halls was in full swing then, and we saw all sorts of Freddy Krueger and other such horrors. I'll be honest, there was a thought in the heat of the moment that we should stick an aspen stake into the "zombie"...
Briefly, this man wandered into some basement cellar, in which barrels stood two-hundred-liter barrels, and of course the very "pain in the ass" could not but make him look into these barrels. And in view of the darkness, don't forget the lighter. In one of the barrels there were remnants of nitro paint of protective color. So he unscrewed the cork of that barrel, stuck his face in it, and flicked it with a lighter... The vapors of acetone and other solvent, which ignited at the same moment, did everything that followed to his "interface"... And in a state of shock he ran back to us.
When we figured out what was going on, we admitted the sufferer to the infirmary, and then to the hospital, where they smeared his "photo card" with orange foam - he looked just like "Gummy Bear" and was safely cured after a while.
To ensure that our rock band after this case did not disperse to all hells, we invented a clever story about what happened, which we told "when we found out". The essence of it was reduced to the phrase "we all slept in our bunks, and he himself is a fool".
And our pants after such an incident required thorough washing and replacement.
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