You loved the show Fireproof. The drama, the action, the sexy men barely clothed… Every Wednesday at 7, you tuned into the show, excited to see what your favourite firefighters were going up against. As you turn on the television, the opening credits rolled. You can barely contain your excitement as you mindlessly munch on your sandwich and chips. The episode opens as it normally does, with your two favourite characters walking into the station. Ben and Shane were notorious for having particularly gratuitous scenes showing off their built bodies walking around the station. And today’s was no different. They walk barefoot, their trousers around their waists, into the station, talking about the wild night they had before partying.
As they start to hang up their trousers, Carlos, a fan favourite, announces that his wife demanded he leave his career. They were kicking Carlos off the show? You are truly shocked. As Ben and Shane bro-hug their friend goodbye, a peculiar scene begins. Carlos breaks the fourth wall, by talking directly into the camera.
“Looks like I’m gonna need a replacement, eh? You wanna try it out, bud?” Confused, you sit utterly confused and stared at the TV. This is definitely out of the norm for Fireproof. It is usually so fluid and scripted, this seems out of place. “Yeah, you! Sitting on your couch. I’m talking to you.” Carlos points his finger at you. Surely this is an ad for Rogaine or something… The episode hasn’t started, has it? “Jesus, man. I’m just gonna have to come to you!”
As he says that, the screen of your television begins to warp ever so slightly. The picture is still crystal clear, definitely High Definition, but distortion is clearly visible. Carlos begins to poke at the lens of the camera, and a loud thumping against the glass rings out. He swings his arm back, as if to punch straight through the cameraman’s jaw, and as it flies forward, the fist phases straight out of the screen!
You fall backward over the couch, and shoot up to see Carlos pulling his way out of the television. It seems that the liquified screen posed quite an obstacle for him, as he struggles to crawl inch by inch against it’s significant pull. Finally, his black and yellow rubber boots snap out of the tv screen, and he plops onto your floor.
Speechless, you trip over your words, as you clutch the edge of your couch, watching one of your favourite fictional characters in the flesh stand up in your living room.
“There. Fuck, that was harder than they made it out to be.” You approach him, and meagerly reach out to touch him. He smiles as you poke him in the cheek, his warm skin meeting your fingers. He was real! “In the flesh, baby. Anyway, I’m looking for a nice vacation. Need to take a break from the flames, you get me? So, why don’t you fill in for a while?” Awestruck, and completely stupefied, you nod dumbly. It wasn’t as if you had the mental capacity in the moment to refuse him. “Great. Alright, bro, suit up.” He began to strip off his uniform, revealing his muscled and lean body, shirtless as per usual. You could feel the built up heat of the suit, radiating out the stench of sweat.
He peeled off his jacket as it dropped to the ground in a heavy thud. He stretched his red suspenders and let them go with a loud snap against his hard chest. Letting them fall off his shoulders, his trousers slowly slid down his legs, gathering in a heap atop his rubber boots. He stepped out of his uniform, wearing only his black silk boxers, and handed you his dirty fireman’s jacket.
Absentmindedly, you take it from his hands, and lay it on the ground next to you. He moves aside as you take your place in front of his boots. The smell of soot and sweat is overwhelming as you slide your bare foot into his suit. You feel the slickness of his sweat glide across your skin as your food slips into the significantly larger footwear. As it hits the sole, you can feel the little grains of sweat-damp ash against your toes.
Carlos takes the liberty of pulling the suspenders up, the pants running up your legs until they come to rest below your belly button. The suspenders sit loosely on your shoulders, the trousers being triple your size. You begin to feel heat. A strange, searing heat throughout your body. As if a fire burns beneath your skin.
Carlos plops down on your couch, making himself comfortable, and switches through your channels. All the while your body rebels against you. Sweat pours from you, pooling in the boots on your feet, coating the inside of your flame-proof trousers. Bones crack and ache as you feel yourself shoot up, standing a proud 6′5. Pain sears through you as your muscles inflate and bulge, creating a strong body built through sweat and tears. You feel your mind beginning to fade, consciousness failing you. The sensation of your face restructuring itself is likened to molding wet clay, pliable and malleable.
You take your first breath as a new man, deep into your lungs. Your sweaty, dirty body reminds you of the days spent in the firehouse gym lifting weights twice your size. Memories of Ben and Shane bro-ing out with you, their pranks and shenanigans, fill your empty head. Pin pricks cascade over your arms and chest, culminating in tattoos chronicling your new past. You swipe a dirty, grit-stained hand over your tightly cropped black hair, posing for your firehouse brother. Carlos nonchalantly nods in acceptance, and points to the television screen.
“Go get ‘em, tiger.” He finishes your sandwich and kicks his feet up on your coffee table, seemingly content with his own new life. Grabbing your jacket, you run full speed toward the screen, jumping into the plasma. You land on your powerful feet, and introduce yourself to the chief as Bryan, the new fireman fresh outta Chicago. You fist bump Ben and Shane, and take your first steps in your new reality, a changed hero for all to see.
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