TL;DR College students inject 3 whole marijuanas and then attempt to steal fire from the gods.
So I was over at my buddies house unwinding after finals. I'm sitting there with him and his roommates and we're watching Apocalypse Now.
One of his roommates, stoned out of his mind, offhandedly remarks "Guys...napalm is fucking awesome." We all agree. I start flipping through a firearm buyers guide on the table because I've seen this movie half a dozen times already. That same friend asks to see the magazine before parroting his previous statement "Shotguns are fucking awesome." Again, we all agree. Then he turns to me with an expression his face similar to how I imagined Newton looked when he was struck by the apple and realization dawned upon him. "Guys...napalm shotgun."
As if possessed by some unseen force, we all set into motion. The movie was paused, the gun safe opened, and the garage entered.
We popped the garage door open and set to work. Old styrofoam was loaded into a bucket, and shotshells were emptied of their shot. Out back we began mixing gasoline into the bucket. This being Florida, everybody and their mother has a gas generator on hand. As the gas melted down the styrofoam into a foul smelling goop, high guy set off down the street to his house. He returned a short while later with...magnesium. Yeah. Highly highly combustible powder.
This is added to our concoction because of fucking course it is. We then slowly and carefully begin to pour the mixture into the empty shot shells. After we've finished loading about 12 of them, we sit back and admire our craftsmanship for a few moments before fetching the beast who would be breathing the fire. We had enough foresight to realize this could potentially end horribly so we went his piece of shit Stevens 320 and then set off towards the berm he built when he bought the property. So we decide that our friend Cody should be the one to fire off the inaugural shot. He was in the military after all and it was his idea. So he steps up about 30 feet from the berm, who we'd taken to calling "Charlie". We stand about 8 feet behind our man with fire extinguishers at the ready and a stereo blasting CCR's "Run Through the Jungle". Cody sizes up the filthy Communist mound of earth before him and squeezes the trigger.
The sky darkens and the sound of the 320 bellowing is joined by angels weeping as our unholy abomination vomits a cloud of back smoke followed quickly by a stream of molten flame. As the gelatinous payload flies through the air it sparkles and cracks like a firework as the magnesium powder cooks off. The goo splatters across the surface of "Charlie" turning the mound of dirt into a smoldering a hill sized effigy to the god of death. Then silence.
Who ever said war was hell just wasn't doing it right. Raucous cheers erupt as Cody lets loose a second Promethean volley, this time even more magnificent than the first as excess sludge left over from the initial round is sprayed in a conical pattern igniting an even larger area than the last. More cheers follow as our friend, our avatar of destruction, turns to us. He kept the weapon pointing downrange of course, we aren't complete fucktards. He's laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes as he yells something about how hot the weapon is getting. Then we notice something. It's still dripping liquid fire. And smoking. And it's still loaded. And there may or may not be one in the chamber since I don't remember if he racked it or not. We start screaming for him to drop it into a nearby can kept close to berm for collecting brass, and begin to run in all directions. Two of us grab the fire extinguishers and take cover on the unburnt side of Charlie and wait for the inevitable kaboom. It was deafening.
Thankfully, the can did a good job of keeping the lava-like mixture from spraying everywhere ad we had all found something to hide behind before shards of plastic and steel flew off in every direction. Once we're sure that everyone is present and accounted for, we started...laughing. I really can't explain it, it must have been a mixture of relief and the sheer absurdity of the situation because we were absolutely hysterical.
We then doused Charlie, cleaned up the area, and set off on the long long walk back to the house. From that day forward we vowed that if we ever wanted to bathe a target in a wreathe of flames, we'd drop the money on some proper dragon's breath rounds instead of listening to a stoner.