You're Fired, Fire!

Due to the fact that I haven't been grocery shopping in the approximately three and a half weeks I've been back, I decided to make one of my favorite "standby" dishes for lunch: tuna melt. I opted to forego the soggy taste of the microwave, and make the sandwhiches on the rotating pizza cooker thing we have in the kitchen.

Apparently, the pizza cooker was a bit hotter than normal today. I smelled something that resembled flaming bread and tuna, and upon turning around, saw flames erupting from my sandwhiches. After emitting a quasi-panicked yelp, I batted at the sandwhiches with an oven mitt and pushed them into a nearby garbage can. Relieved, I turned around to get another can of tuna for try #2 and smelled the same thing. It seems the sandwhiches ignited the garbage around them to form a new, oven mitt resistant "super fire."

I debated making a run for the fire extinguisher, but didn't want to pay for the recharging fee, so I opted to dump my nearby liquids on it instead. That fire got my Pepsi and most of the water from the half-empty glasses my roommate leaves strewn about the kitchen (much like the little girl in Signs). Being fully cognizant that most villians rise for a final attack after being subdued, I chose to leave the final conflagration confrontation for a stranger, and heaved the trash heap into a waiting garbage bin outside.

In the immortal words of Conan O'Brien's Arnold Schwartzenegger: "You're fired, fire!"