Flaming Gloves

Imagine getting into your car after a long day at work, its nice and warm. A change from the bitter cold outside. You are driving along and think oh a smoke would be good about now. You pull one out anticipating the smooth camel flavor. Crap! Where did that lighter go? You start digging through your purse, wedge your hand between your seat and the cup holders (or console-depending on your vehicle).
Finally after almost crashing into 3 other vehicles while on a quest for a lighter you find one under the brake pedal. Now you're ready to light one up. Ahh... the smoke fills your lungs. Traffic suddenly doesn't seem too bad. Oh, wait, its getting a little hot in the car. You go to reach for the thermostat and what the holy fuck?!? Your hand is on fire! Damn those pink anti-static gloves your mom bought you for Christmas. You start flailing about (as much as the seat belt will allow). You grab the stale week old coffee mug and nothing comes out. You roll the windows down and hope the icy atmosphere will put out your flaming hand. Nothing is working.
Suddenly the asshole behind you starts beeping and you fly out of your car and stop drop and roll in the middle of an intersection. Like divine intervention all cars speeding past manage to avoid squishing your scorching carcass and instead crash into each other, they careen into buildings, geese (I don't know why there are geese) and children.
Phew, the flurries that have plagued the day have come in handy. You're safe. And what do you know the gloves didn't fuse to your hand. The whole night hasn't been ruined after all.
Thats what I was thinking about on my way home tonight.