At the end of the street, a wall of smoke stood from the ground to the building tops, made of great plumes whipping by, I stepped in and looking toward the source could not see through the smoke. It smelled of plastic. I walked the long way around to view the scene from upwind. People crowded about the spectacle, taking photos and yelling aimlessly. A motorcycle slipped by the police barriers and rode through the showering debris, close enough where he must have felt the heat. He was delivering a pizza. The closest thing to the wreck was a bus full of people. The sirens of fire engines could be heard not far off, but were of course stuck in the chaos. The car exploded with a loud boom, once and then again, reducing the burning vehicle to pure fire.
the first fool 