Inspector Turmeric Counterweight lifted the tape. ‘What we got, Blossom?’

Constable Pretty Blossom shifted uncomfortably, the hazmat suit chaffing places usually reserved for members of his Lodge. Two similarly clothed figures held up jars, full, it seemed of writhing flames. ‘Flambolins, sir. About twelve so far.’

‘Who found them?’

Blossom pointed at a smouldering heap to his right. ‘Mrs Prism.’

Counterweight winced. ‘What happened to her?’

‘No sir, that’s the perp. That’s Mrs Prism.’ Beyond the heap a small tight curled grey haired woman in her indeterminate years waited, looking pretty miffed. ‘Seems goblins were making fire sprites in the drains for some nefarious purpose and one exploded. Mrs Prism went to help only she used what she thought was water.’

Counterweight nodded. ‘Aquaglob?’

‘Yes sir. Instant immolation. Seems it’s the same gang of goblins who’ve been making flame water are making these fire sprites, only to make it worse, this one had just ingested a tube of bloff.’

‘Fart fire? Talk about taking a risk. Serves it right, though.’

‘Any idea what’s their game?’

‘Word on the street is they’ve organised a mass g’rave for later.’

‘Why do they do it, sir?’

‘They’re elementals, my dear Blossom.’

Based on this week’s flash!friday prompt