Fire Can Be Funny Too

My roomate and friend Ryan likes to cook. He even cooks well and not just well for a dude in a bachelor pad, but well for well's sake. This past Monday we were desperately hungover. I had just gotten home from work and wanted three things: 1)Bite the damned dog that bit me first 2) Put anything of nutrition into my belly and 3) Go to bed and pray for death. Luckily for me Ryan felt the same way and began cooking up some fried chicken. 3 eggs, bread crumbs, chicken and a boiling vat of oil on the stove- we are ready to rock. I poured a vodka soda, put some cartoons on, and awaited the chef to bring me my chitlins.

The crackling of chicken breasts crisping in the oil and the smell of boiling grease was putting a smile on my hungover world. Then the left side of the room went bright orange. Grease fire on the stove, good job Ryan. Rarely do you ever have to deal with fire on an emergency basis, and even rarer deal with it inside where God has not intended fires to run rampant. It's a pretty simple animal and there are only a few rules to control it; but when you have to deal with it on an emergency basis inside your tiny little apartment sometimes you lose your cool. Ryan lost his cool.

First thing I heard as I turned seeing my entire kitchen fairly ablaze was Ryan saying in a fairly panicked voice "uhhhhhhh no no no uhhhhh baking soda baking soda baking soda!" From my position on the couch I knew that Ryan was doing the right thing with the baking soda so I chose to instead of freak out and help enjoy my hangover and the vodka Sprite that was helping to ease it. Suddenly the 'fairly' ablaze kitchen became a Die-Hardesque explosion, large enough that from my humble seat on the couch I felt the heat come off the kitchen. Ryan was thinking baking soda, but somehow in his panic he founf FLOUR and SOMEHOW figured that since both were white and powdery they both probably had the same effect on fire. A fist full of flour got launched at the grease fire and in one quick GA-WOOSH Ryan and I were both in a panic.

Ryan's next instinct was a good one. Turn off the burner. The flames would die down in seconds and there would be no cause for concern. Ryan's instinct told his hand but his hand was not in great communication with his head. He turned off the wrong burner.

"uhhhhhhhhh uhhhhhhhh uhhhhhh oh no oh no oh no ok ok smother it!" comes out of the kitchen. Another good idea. Unfortunately the burner was still on 'blaze' so whatever Ryan was about to put on it was simply going to cook. First thing that he grabbed was going to be the glass lid of one of my pots. Good news: it worked. Kinda. At some point the blazing fire currently subduiing the flame was going to explode into a million pieces on my stove, allowing oxygen to once again ignite the flame and what will surely be a giant fireball will scorch my vaulted ceiling. I explained this quickly to our protagonist and he removed the glass cover- not exactly what I meant by my explanation. Instead of having the glass explosion ignite the flame Ryan introduced Mr. Oxygen to the flame; well at least the pot still has a lid I guess. Another GA-WOOSH and we were back at square one.

Finally Ryan came to his senses and realized that he had flipped off the wrong burner and with one quick turn to the left the excitement was over. The entire event took all of 15-20 seconds but godamn it was a great time. The apartment was completely filled with dark black smoke but my hangover was dulled by the adrenaline shots Ry had given me. Thanks buddy. The chicken was still delicious and we didn't have to use our renter's insurance for anything. Assuming nothing goes teribly wrong, uncontrolled fire in the home can be hilarious, and tossing flour at it can be a wonderful science experiment.