Hard arteries and bubble-gum cigarettes. Episode 1.

The fact that I'm still alive is dope to me, because before we even graduated high school, my friends and I drove our bodies to the limit with substance abuse and practicing with the sprinters.

But to get a better understanding of the badness us Bebe's Kids were destroying the world with, I offer this anecdote humbly.

In the third grade, my peers and I used to take the bottles of Old Spice Aftershave from my bathroom, douse handfuls of toilet paper in it and light it on fire.

When that got old, we had a basic understanding of this fluid working like a fuel, and figured if there was a concentrated amount of it ... in a bottle, for instance, instead of on a handful of toilet paper ... it might explode.

So we took a handful of two-ply booty-wipers, twisted it into a fuse, doused it in after shave then fit it into the hole, lit it in the middle of the apartment parking lot and ran as fast as we could, as far away as we could.

Then, a hands on experiment on what happens when combustion goes wrong. An uncontrolled explosion.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

But we weren't dumb. People came stumbling out of their apartments, hopping over porch fences, fathers with cigarettes in one hand, the other hand holding back their child from running over.

To keep running would be to announce guilt. So we started walking towards the little crater in the tar asking people "What happened?" and "Why does it smell so good?"