I had a stupid encounter with bees once. After getting stung I tried to burn a bee’s nest, but didn’t have much fuel on hand. So I tossed a spray paint can on the fire expecting it to blow and make a big enough fireball to incinerate them all. The fire was dying, however, and the can wouldn’t get hot enough to explode. So, I pulled out my 22 and a hollow-point CCI Stinger round. From 50 feet I hit the can square and it burst into a nice fireball. Something stung me in the ankle, however. I looked down and my shoe, sock and leg were on fire and I had a nice gash high in my ankle. I patted out the fire on the leg and surveyed the damage; my leg, sock and shoe were splattered with paint and I had a cut worthy of stitches. Just behind me was half of the spray paint can. I wasn’t that surprised that half of an exploded can could fly that far and cut me. I was baffled, however, that it traveled so fast and so far on fire and that enough paint rode along to spatter me. The doctors and nurses were in stitches when I explained how I cut my ankle and set my leg and foot on fire with burning spray paint. They called in other staff members and had me retell the story.