At times, an incident is so ridiculous that even when someone has been injured, it is hard to work up any sympathy, let alone keep a straight face.

This can particularly apply to lawsuits.

I am tempted to call them “frivolous” lawsuits, but feel a more apt description would be “you’ve got to be kidding” lawsuits.

One in particular comes to mind, and I expect you all remember it. Years ago, it was initiated by a woman who wedged a cup of hot coffee she had just purchased between her legs to open it, spilled the contents onto her crotch, got third degree burns, and then sued McDonald’s because the coffee had been hot.

Although I have read many indignant justifications for her litigation, particularly concerning how hot the coffee had been and how mean McDonald’s was for not settling the case immediately, I can’t help but wonder what she would have done had the circumstances been different. If, for example, she had made hot bouillon soup on her own stove, poured it into a cup to drink in the car, and performed the same lid-removing operation with the same disastrous results.

Who she would have sued?

Herself?

Bottom line: hot is hot.

Which brings me to my all-time favorite stupid case. All names changed, of course.

The plaintiff, Mr. Bwambale, a sturdy, muscular, giant of a fellow, was suing The Pendulum Coliseum, a huge sports area that doubled as an entertainment venue hosting rock stars, country western singers, Ice Capades, and circuses.

In our case files, we simply called it Bwambale vs. Pendulum.

One of our favorite attorneys, Seth Hamilton, brought Charlie into the case as a “Human Factors” and fire expert. Among the documents and reports he turned over to Charles G. King Associates was a promotional video of a performance (not the one in which Bwambale was injured) by the Nairobi African Fire Dancers.

Without commenting on its aesthetic merits, the presentation included eight beautiful, athletic males wearing grass skirts, dancing, leaping, gyrating, and contorting themselves through flaming hoops, over flaming barricades, and under flaming arches, while simultaneously running flaming rods along their arms and chests and even inside their mouths, and then rubbing their tummies in a “yum” gesture. They also – I kid you not – ran flames beneath their grass skirts, although in the promotional video, the lead dancer only executed this lunatic activity once.

Sadly, documentation for this case remains more in my mind than in my file cabinet, so I don’t remember the specific wording of the complaint. The gist of it was that the Pendulum Coliseum should be held liable for all medical expenses related to injuries suffered by Mr. Bwambale, as well as the pain and suffering he endured and loss of earnings, not only for himself but for the entire company, because – are you ready for this? – after his grass skirt ignited during the performance, there were insufficient fire extinguishers surrounding the stage (there were four and they all worked) to keep the fire at bay.

Therefore, the complaint continued, the third degree burns sustained to his groin, thighs, buttocks, and stomach, were caused by the Coliseum’s negligence; it was all their fault; and THEY SHOULD PAY.

I know. I know.

You’re thinking “Huh?”

Like the lady who sued McDonald’s because her hot coffee was hot, one wonders, “Um. Did Bwambale really, truly believe that the introduction of flames on, to, or beneath the material of his straw skirt would NOT burn?”

And, given the combustibility of the costumes worn by the Nairobi African Fire Dancers, had their lacks of horrendous injuries thus far been anything other than dumb luck?

One wonders.

When they were children, didn’t their mothers tell those gorgeous hunks of manhood that fire is hot? That it spreads fast? That it doubles in size within seconds? That it gives off incredible amounts of heat? That skin can burn with permanent injuries at 160 degrees (less than the temperature of the coffee the lady spilled on herself before she sued McDonald’s), and that fire is deadly?

It was up to Charlie King – in report form and at his deposition – to provide and formalize information about how fire burns and how people react to it. It was also his job to evaluate the four fire extinguishers, and convey his opinion about their efficacy. To wit ... that even if eight, twelve, or twenty fire extinguishers had been present beside the stage instead of four, serious injuries resulting from instantaneous contact of fire to flesh could not have prevented or stopped.

Mr. Bwambale would have been just as badly burned.

Regardless.

Ugh. It doesn’t bear thinking about.

What does make me wonder, though, is how such cases ever make it to court. Astonishingly, though, they do. And often without the caveat of “contributory negligence,” which means that the plaintiff – the guy or gal suing – is considered partially at fault, too.

I also wonder what happened to Mr. Bwambale?

The case never went to trial, Charlie never had to testify, and our attorney, Seth Hamilton, never told us how it was resolved.

I think Bwambale’s claim was settled for some undisclosed amount.

I suspect that the Pendulum Coliseum was forced to install more fire extinguishers. Perhaps, too, a sprinkler system above the stage.

I hope management had enough sense not to book any more troupes of fire dancers, fire eaters, or rock bands using fire as a special effect ... but one never knows. Where profits are concerned, memories can be short.

I also hope that somewhere, in a land far, far away, Mr. Bwambale has discarded his flaming rods, hoops and arches, and buried his straw skirt.

Optimistically, he has become a fisherman or a pharmacist’s assistant.

Librarian might also be a jim-dandy career choice ... as long as nobody is burning books.

Copyright © Shelly Reuben, 2022. Shelly Reuben’s books have been nominated for Edgar, Prometheus, and Falcon awards. For more about her writing, visit www.shellyreuben.com