A Laugh Any Way I Can Get It

At this point, I’m willing to do almost anything to get a good laugh. Even if it takes nearly burning my house down to get it (and no, I didn’t do it).

Husband was grilling some chicken on the barbecue for dinner. He finished, and like he usually does, he left the grill on low with the cover closed to burn off the residual fat. He was at the sink doing some dishes, and I was sitting at the kitchen table watching a DVD on my computer.

I looked up and happened to notice flames licking at the bottom of the barbecue, where the grease cup normally is.

“Um, husband? You might like to take a look at the grill. It’s on fire,” I told him.

He looked up. Then scrambled outside. He opened the hood, and it’s dancing with flame. He turned off all the knobs, and that only licked them down a little. Then he turned off the propane tank.

“You need the fire extinguisher?” I asked him.

“Nah, it’ll be alright.”

It might have been alright, except that (he claims) when he blew some of the cinders back into the grease cup, he created a spectacular fire ball that had that engulfed most of the barbecue. Anyone else looking at the scene would think that he was trying to blow out a grease fire.

“Now do you want the fire extinguisher?” I asked him.

“ Get it,” he said.

I got it. I also told him that he might want to move the aerosol can of wasp and hornet killer (does anyone know the difference between a wasp and a hornet, and does it really matter when they’re swarming around your back deck?) out of harm’s way. That’s all we needed, a house fire, and a true aerosol bomb.

Turns out he didn’t need the extinguisher (although he did more the aerosol can) and the fire, while it had flared spectacularly, had now burned itself out.

I’m saving the irony for last. For on the side of the propane canister was a magnet which read, “Danger Men Cooking.”

Apparently, printing the magnet with one inch high letters is not a prominent enough warning for some.