[ WP ] You are a pyrokinetic who tends to accidentally set things on fire when stressed . And today , you 're having a very bad day .

Bertram is out packing dope. Bertram is a wiry, huge fellow with a network of veins on his massive forearms, the biggest of which, is on his sinewy neck. 
 
 `` I'll just put it in the baggie for you,'' said Bertram. `` In the kitchen. Fuck mate, put down a doily before you sit on the couch.'' 
 
 I stopped my sitting action straight away. And got a doily. It had lace on it and was the most startling white. `` Oi Bertram, why do you like this couch so much?'' 
 
 `` I love the rose pattern,'' he said, `` I spent two-hundred dollars on getting it reupholstered. Is n't the rose pattern beautiful. It reminds me of grandma. Sit gently for, God's sake, the thing's delicate, bro.'' 
 
 I put down a doily and sat. I hoped I would n't have a pyrotechnic episode. It would darn get me killed if it did. You see, I black out, hallucinate, and have lighters materialize in my hands when I'm nervous. And Bertram was making me darn nervous. 
 *** 
 It all started in the mid-nineties, when I was 34 years old. I was on a winning streak. I'd settled down these days. I had n't been in gaol forever, and also was taking my medication. I thought now is a good time to get rid of my medication, even if I did start the occasional fire, smoking Datura that grows as a weed in the Australian bush. It makes you cough like hell, when you smoke though, so I blew the occasional cone. 
 
 I was hallucinating. It was the blackouts too. It was the way lighters materialized in my hands. I was just having an impersonal chat with the police, about the burning of Meredith's house, when I woke up from a narcoleptic stupor, with a lighter in my hand, trying to burn a Dob in a Drug Dealer poster. 
 
 `` What the fuck are you doing?'' said Sergeant Nico. 
 
 `` I dunno,'' I said. `` I have these materialization moments you see, sir, and these hallucinations. Blackouts too. I tend to be able to set things on fire with my eyes too.'' 
 
 `` There's only one thing for that, ya shit,'' said Sergeant Nico, `` Gaol.'' 
 *** 
 I'm in the flats. Bertram-the-slicer is scoring for me. He has a couch which is his pride and joy. I'm sitting on a doily. He's in the kitchen packing a deal. I've got bong; I put it to my lips. 
 
 I feel the urge to cough. I hope no lighter materializes, or I hallucinate, or have a narcoleptic seizure. `` I'll be there in two shakes of a lambs tail,'' said Bertram. 
 
 `` Take your time,'' I called around the corner.
