9 hours later, battered and bruised, we figured out that all you needed to do was twist them on via handgrip. The books were destroyed, the hardhats were dripping, but the fan was oscillating! After a hard day of work, we returned to our beds assured that the heat would bother us no longer. How wrong we were. Around midnight, in the dark I hear someone commenting on how hot it is. How could this be though said no one, we just bought a brand new oscillating fan with plastic finish. Turns out, it had stopped working.
That night we lived like cavemen, and built a roaring fire in hopes to calm the heat. The warmth could not be cooled though; as the flames grew so did the temperature. It was as if some higher power was mocking us, or just my roommate. I eventually passed out from the amount of smoke we were inhaling. When I came to, the heat was gone! So was my wall, everything else I owned, and it was just a giant cesspool of melted stuff around my pajama covered body. Apparently fires can’t control themselves, didn’t realize it needed a babysitter. I don’t get why they don’t write that on the styrofoam boxes we used to burn. It was really only a matter of time before someone discovered what a defective product this fire stuff was.
What remained of the fan was scooped into a box and taken back to Walmart. The customer service grudgingly gave back my twenty bucks, but no need to tell my roommate that. With the new vent the fire built us, we really didn’t have use for a new fan. Maybe we never really needed it in the first place, and that fire was the cause of some ancestral spirit trying to tell me this. Like I’d trust a new one anyways, the weakling gave out in a matter of hours last time. I guess the moral of this tale is, don’t buy from Walmart. You may think it’s a Twinkie, but it’s really a plastic covered raging inferno.