Monday, February 23, 2009

Why The Neighbors' and Us Became Firefighters on SuperBowl Sunday

In General, folks frown on burning down houses, especially when they are situated between two others, attached permanently, and providing no means of escape. Had we lived in a trailer park, we’d have hooked up the dog and drug our house down the road a bit or two.  But, since we were stuck, we decided to throw a party instead and prepare to roast marshmallows. 
Lemme’ back up a bit and give you a play by play of what really happened.  Earlier in the day, I had come up with a great idea to get out of running.  I had poured ketchup on my sock and screamed loudly from downstairs acting like I had dropped a tool on my toe and received multiple compound foot fractures and would, no doubt, be unable to go running or work out this day.  My plan was working until I got caught dipping my egg biscuit on my sock and eating it.  Now, looking at Beth like a deer does headlights, I did all I knew to do; I started crying, and then quoting made-up Bible verses, “eh Plurabus Forgivethneth, for-ith I-ith hav-ith madith a-ith mistakith and-ith pleadith temporaryith insanityith and-ith I-ith wantith to-ith go-ith runningith so-ith badith”. She didn’t buy it and I took off running by her and heading upstairs screaming “ouch” “ouch” all the way even though she’d never made contact; I’m sure she was trying to knock me in my damn head though,  SLAP  I mean damn eye,  SLAP,  head.  I made my second mistake as I reached the top of the stairs. “Go ahead, give it your best shot, I dare you!” Slapityslapityslap!  “No No Wait till I’m ready”.  I took a step backwards, “Now I’m ReaSLAPdy”. “You’re lucky I have a compoundly fractured pair of feet”.
I reminded Beth that her Mama had called and needed assistance setting up her new TV.  I’d no doubt broke many electronics and knew I had experience with this model too.  Oh Oh, and I reminded her that we had to buy a drill bit for another project that I was working on, and some super glue for another project that I was re-working on, plus we still had to go to church, eat lunch, prep for the ball-game, walk the dog, and so many other things that would fill up our day.  Not thinking about it and realizing that the run and gym would only be 2 hours and all the other stuff I’d reminded her of would be atleast twice that.  I should have taken the gym, jog, and tv behind door number one, but instead picked door number 2 that (unbeknownst to me) had gym, jog, tv, drill bit, dog, super glue, mini-blinds, garage shelves, house cleaning, rotisserie yard-birds, car washing x 2, laundry folds, bathroom cleaning, food shopping, and snow shoveling. Damn!
After all was said and done with door number 2, I stepped outside with beer in hand to say hello to our friends next door;  the ones who would soon be burning down the neighborhood. 
They have a 4 legged son named Mossi, or maybe Mossie, or perhaps Mossy – whatever, it starts with MO.  The picture here is about a month old.  He has doubled his size and weight in the last month but still preciously clumsy and equipped with a mouth full of needle teeth.   Beth and I have declared ourselves his Auntie and Uncle; he loves me the most! 0

He’s a Piranha with legs!
Brandon (Mossi’s Old Man) and I had been outside for about 2 minutes when Brandon asked if I knew where the alarm was coming from that he’d heard and I hadn’t.  I opened our door and it wasn’t us. Beth had stepped out for a few minutes and I was there alone rotisserie-ing two dead chickens but hadn’t set nothing on fire.  Brandon then opened his front door and the alarm was very loud and we both knew it was coming from there. He quickly ran around the house sniffing for smoke while Mossi lost his mind and thought it was time for tag and went flying through the place like the Tasmanian Devil causing a wake of furniture and DVD’s to follow behind.  Annette (Mossi’s Mama) had just bought a brand new skillet and was wanting to try it out but Brandon said that she was in the shower and not cooking right now.  He noticed that the alarm was both smoke and CO2 so we went back outside and he decided to call 911 to ask if someone could check it out but would specifically tell them it wasn’t an emergency. He dialed the number, identified himself on the phone, turned around and noticed through the window Annette flying down the stairs butt naykid (she’d been in the shower and hadn’t heard the alarms), and he panicked and hung up the phone and ran in to stop her before she tore off down the street full monty hollering “fire!”.  Well, 911 didn’t have a clue what was going on because he hadn’t yet told them it wasn’t an emergency so they took immediate action.  Off in the distance we heard the fire siren go off and we knew we were in deep doodoo. I thought about that commercial where Southwest asks “Want to get away?”.  I could run in my own house and act like I didn’t know him, but poor little Mossi would be scared of the big trucks that were on the way and what if Annette was gonna run down the street naykid & hollering?  Somebody had to stay back and guard the place while Brandon chased after his honey through town.
We could see the main road from our house and because our address is brand new and not on any (but the newest) maps, we watched the fire brigade drive around the neighborhood looking for smoke, us waiving at them, or naykid people running down the street yelling fire. 
Once they had us in their sights, trucks started rolling in from everywhere.  We had ladder trucks, tandem trucks, Hummers, SUVs, jaws of life’s, ambulances, state troopers, medivac helicopters, CNN, Jehovah's Witnesses, and a dude setting up a hot dog stand all converging on our collective location.  Our other friends and neighbors started sticking their heads out the window and getting ready to start pulling out garden hoses that hadn’t yet thawed and were stiff and unbendable.  They could put out the fire as long as the fire was in the direction that the hose was permanently frozen in and as long as it was immediately below the hose roller upper since we couldn’t have gotten them off there too. Green Acres had come to Phoenixville and we wanted every damn SLAP body to know it!  It was now time for Mossi to start taking dumps – in my house!
Just before the crews had showed up, Brandon asked if I could put Mossi in my house because of all the traffic in the road and the fireman running around the house.  I said sure and brought Mossi over, gave him a treat, and walked back outside closing the door behind me.  We didn’t know it then, but do now, that Mossi is scared of the sirens.  I counted 22 puppy turds and figured there were 22 instances of siren activity in the front yard.  Each time a siren would go off, Mossi would pinch off a turdlett wherever he was at the time; stairs, foyer, living room, kitchen, hallway, it didn’t matter, he was fair to the whole house!
The fireman thoroughly inspected the entire house for the existence of C02 and hidden fires and gave the house a safe rating.  Apparently there was sheetrock dust in the alarms and caused the problem. These houses are all brand new and the dust associated with cutting the sheetrock must have worked its way in to the alarm system.  The Fire Chief was telling us all this.  This is about the same time when we all declared our intention to become volunteer fireman and women. I said (and it was a bad choice of words), “Are ya’ll real professional firemen or just volunteers”?  I immediately realized what I had said when it got really really quiet all around me; the individual conversations ended, the sires stopped, the neighbors gasped, and I said “I mean, can we volunteer to join you?”  The Fire Chief looked at me and said “I assure you, we have all the same certifications!”  I think he ended it with dumba$$, but I’m not sure.  Annette, clothed now, joined in the conversation and told us that she had long since been a volunteer firefighter.  Brandon and I knew there was no way out of it now and we were Oaks/Phoenixville’s newest Firefighter Recruits.  I didn’t stop there, I followed up my first question with, “Hey, do ya’ll have one of those beer halls attached to the back of the firehouse?”  Again, the Fire Chief looked at me as if talking to a volunteer policeman and said, “NO we don’t”.  I didn’t ask any more questions.  Brandon and I were each given an application and have to get in shape as we were told for the first two months, we’d have to run to the fires until we earned the right to ride in the truck.  Damn!  SLAP
Annette with her brand new skillet that we thought was the original reason. She’s a wonderful cook and has only burned one other house down.  KIDDING (not)
Brandon’s reaction to the rescue siren. I can’t tell you how happy I am it was him and not me!
The Fire Chief gave us each an application to join.  Next month we start working out as we won’t be allowed to ride in the truck yet.  We have to jog to the fires until we earn the right to hold on to the back. I wonder if I’ll get to drive.
Our other Neighbor, Tim (and Cory),  came driving up during the peak of all the activity just saying to himself, “not our house not our house”.  It was.  But all ended well and nobody hurt.  On a side note, Tim has made it up to the higher rounds of American Idle. We went to listen to him play at the Epicurean the other night and this dude can sing ya’ll. I’m probably better and all SLAP, ok ok, I’m kidding.  This dude is awesome and if ya’ll come over soon, I can probably get him to sign your shirt or forehead or something because when he get’s famous he probably won’t like us anymore; especially if we keep having our friends drive their firetrucks up in the yard and all.
Fire Vehicles
So you can see that our Super Bowl Sunday was pretty exciting even before the game got started.  It was perfect timing though as this incident was terminated right before 6:00 pm so the Fire Folks were able to get back to the multitudes of fire houses that they’d come from (we had a bunch) and get back in front of the telly in time to see the opening kickoff!  I hope the Fire Chief (the same one that I’d unintentionally insulted, twice) isn’t my fire putter-outer trainer because I know he’ll make me run up stairs carrying hoses and people and kits and stuff “just for practice”.  I wonder if he’ll believe me if I say I’m injured and I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.  Beth will probably tell him I’m full-of-it or Brandon will say I’m lying and I’ll have to do pushups or crunches or something awful like that.
I wish I could have followed the firefighters as they went through the house. Everyone had masks on sounding like Darth Vader.  Brandon remained a bright red as the lights continued to strobe and more and more neighbors came out.  Annette, well she was pretty cold because she was still pretty much soaking wet from her interrupted shower.  Me, after a while I just hid behind this tree and decided to keep my mouth shut before I somehow joined the French Foreign Legion.  As quickly as the last fire vehicle left, Beth came driving up and said “Why is everyone standing around outside, what is there a fire or something”.  “Silly girl” I said, “we’re waiting for you honey. Be careful going inside, there are baby turds growing in there.”
It’s been a full day.  I did take the Viking Witch out for a minute or two today as well.  I had to run down and shovel snow from around her parking area and couldn’t resist taking her for a quick spin.  Its not good to let her sit there for too long, as she needs to fly and get a good work out fairly frequently.  As the weather is starting to warm up a bit, we’ll begin again our flying adventures and write a line or two about them when we do.  Ya’ll be particular and remember – don’t hang up on 911 cause they know where the hell you live SLAP. “Honey, check the chickens! Are they on fire?”
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons license.


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