Snippet #1367862

Tirka clapped with the restof the class after a kid had just done the national anthem on a tuba. It sounded more like one of her great uncle Albert's fart renditions of it. Her uncle had stood up, hand to heart, and solemnly farted out the national anthem, while her dad had burped along. It had been hilarious to see. The spikey haired kick poked her shoulder lightly, and she blinked twice. "Hmm?" she looked at him. 'you're on fire.' he mouthed, grinning. Tirka hurreidly looked down, and realised that, as she had been clapping, a few rogue sparks had set fire to her sleeve. She swore quietly, focused, and the flames faded and disappeared.