The year was 2018. Fires burned across the hills, forests, and brush of Southern California.
During this time of anger and frustration focused at the elements a man, nay, a true American was driving from Los Angeles to neighboring Ventura County. As he came to the world famous pass between the San Fernando Valley and Simi Valley he spotted what seemed to be a cloud in the sky ahead of him. To many a cloud is simply a cloud, but to those in Southern California a cloud is something rarely seen and hardly understood. Residents on both sides of the pass froze in fear as they looked up to see the unexplainable cotton-like puff in the sky.
Our hero continued to drive towards the aberration until he was finally able to get close enough to inspect the unknown element. He noticed this cloud was no cloud at all, ’twas smoke from a fire. A brush fire. The type of fire local firefighters had been battling for days and weeks before. The heat fierce and hot, the smoke intense and blinding, the air thick and unbreathable. The hill was covered in kindle ready to join the expanding blaze.
With panic and fear racing through the residents in the nearby cities police were dispatched to the local shopping centers, ready for rioters to descend upon their locations. Armed with tanks and military level assault weapons they stood with their fingers on the triggers, ready to give minimal warning before unloading their magazines on the approaching crowds. Luckily, just moments before the rioters turned the corner, the fire department showed up to the hill. Ready with hoses and other implements of extinguishment they looked upon the fire, gnashed their teeth and screamed out their war cries. They were ready for anything the fire could bring and they weren’t scared. The captain looked on, proud of his men for their readiness and proud of himself for the training he provided. A brief smile could been seen across his face as he rose his hand above his head, ready to give the order for the firefighters to begin their fight. The smile vanished, his hand swung down. The firefighters ran into the blaze, unafraid. They punched, kicked, karate chopped, cast spells, and even threw water onto the blaze in a desperate attempt to put it out.
As the firefighters did as their title suggested they would, the true American in the car drove up the hill, crested the peak, and continued into the smoke of the fearsome blaze. For literally moments he feared for the safety of his car, and maybe others on the road. Unbeknownst to him, the fighting of the firefighters was somehow succeeding. The powerful heat was calming, the blinding smoke was quelling, the riot inducing fear was calming. The firefighters were winning.
In what seemed like literally seconds our driver was able to move through the smoke ravaged freeway and passed the danger. In an instant, it was over… for him.
For us, this is where our first hand account will end. Our hero was only able to learn the outcome of the disaster by refreshing his Twitter feed over and over again for the next half-hour or so. He never learned how, he never learned why, but he did learn that the fire was beaten back that day. The police were able to stand down. The rioters never did show their faces. The local shopping centers were able to stay open. The cities were safe… for now.
Anyway, he’s the video.
