Call the Fire Department, Bob is Grilling...

We should have known not to fire up that grill on that fateful Mother's Day of 2010. There was a sign, straight from the Lord himself, but we ignored it. Such begins the tale of my father trying to burn down his house.

My mother called me the Wednesday before Mother's Day weekend and announced that the first grilling of the season would commence in honor of her. Trinity was thrilled as he prefers cheeseburgers to her previous suggestion of chicken salad. She said that they would drag it out from the shed and clean it out on Friday. I must explain a little bit about our shed, as it has a bit of a checkered past. To keep things short I will just say NO ONE likes the shed. Its kind of like James Earl Jones' fenced in backyard in The Sandlot. Something is always trying to kill someone out in that damn shed. Creatures live there. When Rob was in middle school a 6 foot long black rat snake slivered out of THE GARAGE and headed back to its home in the shed. After loosening his bowels on the driveway he claimed he would never go near that shed. Mom and Dad are brave though.

So Friday rolls around, Jane and Bob roll the grill out of the shed, drag it through the yard and set it up on the back patio. All is going well until Dad flips open the lid and comes face to face with an enormous female POSSUM, WHO HAS HATCHED A BUNCH OF BABIES AND IS LIVING IN THE GRILL. Now, I know that baby possums don't come from eggs, rather we all know that they are spawn from the devil himself. There was lots of hissing, as my parents retreated into the safety of the house. There were calls made to area organizations, but no one was reached to rescue my parents from the litter of possums. They slept in terror that night.

The next morning the family had vacated the premises, clearly unhappy with their new landlords. All was well, and Dad thoroughly cleaned the grill, as the tenants had only occupied the lower storage shelf. Rob, Trinity and I arrived Sunday afternoon, excited at the prospect of cheeseburgers.

So the possums weren't sign enough of troubles to come. My dear father lights the grill, only to see flames shoot up and begin to engulf it. Trinity barrel rolls(not really but that would have been way cool) into the ivy bed which is situated slightly lower than the patio. He grabs the hose and starts to fight those flames Kurt Russell "Backdraft" style. This apparently goes on for about a minute and the flames continue to shoot higher and higher, beneath a lovely old tree. That's when Dad screams, "Call 911" Now, peeps, here's where all hell breaks loose. Mother calls the fire department, Trinity continues to battle the blaze, Dad and Rob stand there in shock and I rescue the fool dog, who is standing there dangerously close to the point of origin( I learned that from CSI).

Now the Honey Creek Fire Dept. is located about 10 feet from mom and dad's house. We hear the sirens, rescue is near! Then, then, then, the fire goes out! Damn! Can't it burn dangerously, but not too dangerously, so we don't look like a bunch of idiots? The next scene included 3 Fire Engines, and the entire neighborhood gawking in our driveway. The Fire Chief assured us "that we had done the right thing, "after school special style, and then concluded that the connection from the gas tank was not completely closed.

Awesome!

Here Mother is going to talk to the neighbors.

Fire Safety lecture time.