A Kitchen Disaster to Remember Forvever

I slammed the door. I was so hungry I could have gnawed my fingernails to the bone. However, they had already been claimed by a stressful day at work.  I threw my keys on the counter.  A plate of fried chicken was peacefully resting on the stove just for me, but dad had eaten all the fried potatoes.  So, it was freezer fries for me.  There was nothing extraordinary about making frozen french fries.  I just placed some french-fries on the toaster oven plate and set the thermostat to 425 degrees. Tada. Twenty minutes 'til bliss.

Okay, I admit that evening was hazy.  I was over tired and over worked. As a senior in High School, working full time, and just promoted to department manager at my real estate company; I was a zombie. I headed to my bedroom to change into my first pair of Victoria Secret's pajamas.  I was a grown up.  Then, I settled into my comfy cozy sofa. I tried to remain master of my stomach.  Yet, it had ideas of it's own.  It was growling so loud it sounded like an over-stuffed washing machine. I knew the only way to stop it was taking a nap.

Spanky, my schnauzer, had other ideas. She loved playing and after not seeing me all day she wanted some love. After a minute of petting her my stomach was feeling neglected. I tried to hush my belly up, but it was to no avail.  Finally, my dad had pity and took Spanky into the den with him. Ah, sleep.

I can't remember anything after Spanky leaving. All I remember is Spanky barking madly. And my brother, then ten, pulling me off the sofa.  As, I lay on the ground I could see a cloud of smoke billowing from the sofa. It sounded like a troll was sneezing!  Followed by shrill barking.  Had Spanky caught a troll? Or, was it the mysterious jackalope my sister's boyfriend swears lived in the garden? I was so disoreineted I forgot about my French fries.

"BAM"

The toaster oven didn't forget. I ran into the kitchen. My mom was already there throwing baking soda on it. However, the flames where just to high.

"JOE! JOE! Do something!"

"What do you want me to do?"

My dad stood leaning on the frame of the kitchen door. He had obviously had worn himself out wrestling the sofa.

"The toaster oven is on fire!"

Defeated, my dad picked up the phone and called 911. The operator told us all to evacuate. My mom was not going to leave the toaster oven burning inside. She grabbed some potholders and took it to the curb with her. 

So, my family and I stood on the street corner holding the smoldering toaster oven until the fire department arrived. If you live in a small town you know you never get just one fire truck.  We had two respond to the toaster oven crisis.  Plus, we had about four police cruisers parked in our driveway.  We live on the main street.  So, for the next month we were getting stopped everywhere asking what happened that night.

My twenty minutes of bliss went up in smoke.  After two boxes of baking soda and a good beating with a bath towel the toaster oven gave in.  However, Spanky wasn't so lucky. While I was sleeping on the couch she had gotten into my purse and stole my keys. Hooked onto my keys was a little bottle of MACE my dad bought me.  Spanky had bit into the MACE while hiding under the sofa.  You may say, "Aw, honey this is just a bout of bad luck". Which is just what my mother told me, after she recruited me for Saturday cooking classes. To this day if you talk to my husband for any length of time he'll tell you why he still keeps a fire extinguisher in the garage.