The fire was dribbling down from the canopy. Droplets of burning plastic. Hot sticky mess. Dak Ulu started screaming a high-pitched trill, when he got some on him. Gg Kk ran and ducked inside a pitcher plant.
A drop of napalm landed on Doctor Jj's cigarette, and he sucked the napalm inside.
"I guess that's the last cigarette I'll be having. I quit!"
What a card. I watched Doctor Jj's face melt off.
I followed Gg Kk and found my own pitcher plant. For a louse-brained schmuck, it was a good idea: the thick, moist skin might help protect against the fire. Well, it was an idea.
I got inside the pitcher plant and closed the lid. It was dark. Sticky stuff surrounded me, but at least it wasn't hot and sticky. I got my gas mask out and put it on. And waited.
Outside, I could hear the Flingellans coming in. Slurping, grinding noises. I guess they must be eating the Doctor, or Dak. Then they started making that horrid whooping sound – self-flingellating. I hoped that they couldn't see me, and that they couldn't see Gg Kk. There was nothing to do but wait.
This is a five-minute freewrite based on the prompt cigarette.
It is a continuation; previous instalments can be found at part 1, part 2 and part 3.
In other news, I have just started a choose-your-own adventure where the character's actions are chosen by you, the readers and commenters. If you think this is an interesting idea, please check it out at A Computer-based Interactive Fiction For You and Your Friends.