"Words are weapons and tools, fireworks and fire-starters."
You could not have picked better words to quote on the molotov cocktail you left on my doorstep last night as your retort to my latest piece of writing. The exact message I had intended and yet even I had not thought of something this wonderful! However I had hoped that you would be more understanding of the fact that I was in no rush to force blowing something up on a Tuesday night when there was little to do and even less to ignite. You were antsy to see me throw my words and watch them explode like the weapons they are, but you were ready to settle with throwing it aimlessly into an empty parking lot only steps away from my humble abode. Where's the adventure and excitement in that? Where's the meaning in that? Such a commendable gesture deserves more careful planning than that, good sir. I want to wait till I can chuck it with passion. I want to wait till I can jump and scream and admire the explosion my very own words have caused before us, reflecting chaos in our disgraceful eyes. I will wait until that very toss is a response of its own to this lovely gift you have left me. Regardless of the fact that we could easily pick up a 12 pack of beer any ol' time and make ourselves an army, this one is special. You are not his opponent, you are simply a warrior, simply staring into me from the other side of a chess game and my eyes still aren't telling you all the secrets I'm hiding. Have a little more respect for warfare, my friend. Have a little more respect for my art and yours, and we can continue this chess game by blowing it to smithereens.