It was a sweltering, humid day in Gilman, Illinois as Cole and I hauled the truck around to the front of the building and pulled the line on the motor. The gigantic, oil-stained engine on the trailer roared to life, vibrating and screeching and chuffing out clouds of black smoke, and after hooking the machine up to nearest water source, one of us—I can’t remember which—untangled the rubber hose from its crank, slid a finger through the trigger on the nozzle, and dragged it through the glass doors.

Nobody asked what we were doing. Nobody stopped us. We moseyed unmolested down the short hallway in slow-motion, Reservoir Dogs-style, and kicked open the bathroom door.

Then we pulled the trigger, and a laser stream of high-pressure water exploded from the barrel in a cloud of mist. The carnage had begun. Continue reading →