Authorities demand to know which Quincy kid used a fucking white lighter

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Authorities are looking for a man in his mid-twenties who has been said to have been carrying a white Bic lighter, going against the unspoken code of ethics that binds all Quincy residents.

The "Curse of the White Lighter," which has plagued this city with much unneeded fear and countless tragedies over the years, can be traced back nearly thirty-five years, when Joe "Quincy Face" McClusky purchased a white lighter from behind the bar at The Sag in North Quincy. According to local folklore, McClusky awoke the following morning to find himself at the Ritz Motel, handcuffed to a dead hooker.

"Joe McClusky is the first documented case of the curse," said Paul McGranite, a wealthy investor, and author of You're Fuckin' Done, Kid: Curse of the White Lighter. "And the worst part is, they never did find the key to those handcuffs. He had to carry that dead hooker around with him for the rest of his life. It was as if he was suffering for the sins of everyone in Quincy, and the dead hooker was his cross to bear. And, after a while, he began to feel love for that hooker. But he was so far gone by then that nobody ever saw him much."

Since then, countless documented events relating to white lighters have formed the perfect pattern to describe a full blown curse. Most recently, an unnamed man was spotted using a white Bic lighter at a barbecue in North Quincy, resulting in one of the largest mustard mishaps ever recorded.

"That guy was a dick," screamed Moranzo Llamas, a day laborer from Quincy, known for his unrelenting thirst for a good time. "I look over at him at this party, and I can see that he's using a white Bic. Everybody in Quincy knows that you can't use a white lighter, it's the longest running curse in the city. And he wasn't just lighting a cigarette, either, he was just flicking it, over and over agan, it was pointless. The next thing I know, the guy walks by me and trips, knocking my hot dog off my plate and onto my favorite shirt. It's this awesome button-up shirt I got that has a bunch of marlins on it, and now I'm gonna have to figure out how to clean an eight inch mustard stain. That dude can eat my fucking ass. He broke the rules."

No further information is known about this mysterious man, as no partygoer would publicly admit to knowing him. Until his whereabouts and intentions are known, authorities have asked all residents to remain calm, and have pleaded with local businesses to stop selling these godforsaken lighters.