So I never explained what happened during my Italian presentation on The Inferno.


I walked into class carrying a whole bunch of posterboards and a gasoline can and lighter hidden in a spare bag. I took my seat and waited patiently.


My name was called, I stepped to the front of the class, I began my presentation began, and everything started off smoothly. I had essentially made a giant slide show with posterboards depicting the Dante's journey through Hell. Oh yes, many-a wicked stick figure was shown suffering plethora of poorly-drawn tortures.


After all my descriptions, I set up the posterboards around the classroom in order of the levels of Hell. Then, I held up pictures of well-known people and asked the class where in Hell they belonged. Einstein was in Limbo (virtuous non-believer), President Clinton was in Level 2 (lustful), Ruben Stoddard was in Level 3 (gluttonous) and so one. The last picture I held up was one of myself. I was curious to see where the class would place me. I was thinking Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) because I was usually in a bad mood when I was in class, since it was at 7 pm and I'd been working all day and I probably hadn't eaten.


They couldn't come to a consensus so I placed myself in Level 2, since that's where the Dante's Inferno Online Test placed me. Although, to be fair, I scored very high for almost every level except Limbo.


After that, it was time for my big finale. I grabbed all the posterboards and my notes and dumped them in a pile.


"Now what would a presentation on Dante's Inferno be without..." I rummaged in my bag and pulled out the gasoline can and the long barbecue lighter. "Without the Inferno?" I finished. I started pouring the can's contents onto the pile of papers. When it was empty I tossed it to the side. I held up the lighter high over my head and sparked a flame. I stole a glance at my audience. There was a variety of facial expressions. Some disbelief, some shock, and (my personal favorite) a good deal of morbid fascination.


I let the lighter extinguish and lowered my arm. "You were all just going to sit there and let me do this?!" I yelled. "What's wrong with all of you?!"


The liquid in the gas can was water, of course.


I was disappointed with my class. I had been bracing myself to be tackled to the ground or at least been hit with a chair. But no, nothing. I guess for some crazy reason, people trust that I know what I'm doing. I appreciate that, of course.


I can, however, see a very large downside to that.