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The guys are always saying that you’re a little boring, and that you never do anything spontaneous, but that’s about to change. It’s your birthday, and you’re in a very good mood since your friends surprised you. It’s definitely time to get this party started.

You pop the cork on the champagne and before AJ and Kevin understand why you’re shaking the snot out of it, you’re showering the video game junkies. “Games over! I win!” you shout.

AJ and Kevin are every bit as shocked as Nick and Brian, but they burst into laughter while Nick and Brian shout curses and scramble to their feet. “Howard Dorough when’s the last time you had birthday spankings?”

“Whoa Rok,” AJ laughs as Brian and Nick eye you dangerously. “I never figured you be the one of us to come out of the closet.”

“It’s time for a birthday beating!” Nick agrees whole-heartedly. “Get him!”

You make a mad dash for the back patio. AJ and Kevin may have been innocent bystanders in this brilliant plan of yours, but they aren’t about to miss out on the fun. Suddenly it’s four on one. It takes them a minute to wrestle you to the ground and give you the appropriate amount of Charlie horses – suddenly you think 35 is too old.

While they’re busy making sure you’ll be sore in the morning, the champagne has caused the x-box to short circuit. The sparks quickly ignite the flammable beverage and before the guys are through dumping you in the hot tub, you entire living room has caught fire. By the time you smell the smoke and feel the heat of the wild flames, the back door is completely engulfed, trapping you on the back porch.

You, along with all of your friends, stand there with you mouth gaping open for a moment. You all scramble for handfuls of water from the hot tub, but it’s no use. “On the bright side, Leigh won’t know I doused her furniture with champagne on purpose,” you mumble to yourself, still suffering from denial as your house begins to burn down.

It’s not until Kevin shouts, “Someone call 911!” that you realize the severity of your predicament.

You’re all in swimsuits. All cell phones are now on the wrong side of the flames. There is no way in the house, and there’s no way off the patio. The only thing you can do is go down the concrete stairs to the lower deck and get as far from the fire as possible. “The alarm will call the fire department,” you assure your friends as you reach the farthest part of the deck. You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t listen to your wife and spent too much money on the ridiculously extravagant security system.

You can all feel the heat and you wonder if the flames will jump from the house to where you’re standing. You look down the mountain behind you, and can only think of two plans. Wait where you are until the Hollywood Fire Department comes to your rescue, or try to jump the patio railing and head down the hill to safety.

If you’ve always wanted to be rescued by a fireman, go back to chapter 4.

If there’s no way in hell you’re sticking around to get roasted like one of the marshmallows Kevin brought, continue on to chapter 10.