How I learned at what temperature I melt.

         This is a simple story from my youth and of one of my first scars. It began one night when I was nothing more than an innocent little boy of four. I was not always the calm, collected, and sarcastic weirdo you have all come to know and love. No, I was a very excitable child and was often prone to run around, play, and carry on like most younglings are apt to do. This was especially true when I was watching a movie that got me excited. I remember that it was night time and that a movie that I had wanted to see in theaters (though for the life of me I can not remember what it was) had just come out on T.V.  and was being shown for the first time. Back then we only had two televisions in the house, one T.V. for the living room and one for my sisters room. So it came to pass that my family was currently using the living room television which left me with the on located in my sisters room. At the time I did not care though and I remember rushing in ,siting on her bed, and flipping to the channel it was going to premier on. An hour later the film was reaching its climax. I, in my youth driven excitement, Began jumping up and down upon my sisters bed. Higher and higher I jumped until I lost my footing. Now normally This would have been no big deal I had fallen of of larger things before and came out just fine. But there was one key difference about this fall. My dearest sister had absentmindedly left her curling iron on the floor...and it had been on for. hours. I remember slamming into it and hearing ,before I felt anything, my flesh sizzle. I screamed at the top of my lungs and the whole family came rushing in to see what the problem was. They quickly pealed the iron off of my leg taking a generous portion of my skin with it. For days we cleaned it thoroughly to prevent infection. Of course the iron had to be thrown away ( on account of my skin having been welded to it and all)  and my sister got in a ton of trouble. Despite the blinding pain and agony i went though that night I look back at it fondly. My brother and I still joke about it and to this day he will call me by the title he gave me that night. That title is bacon-leg (because of the scar it left behind).