three alarm broccoli
Dec. 18th, 2003 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlesstempMy brother came home from school tonight, which meant Sloppy Joes for dinner, his favorite meal. I loathe sloppy joes and instead decided to make my specialty -- ziti noodles, butter, and broccoli. I know! Such a chef! So I was standing there at the stove, stirring my noodles, waiting for the pot with the broccoli in it to come to a second boil, talking to my Dad who was standing beside me stirring the sloppy joe stuff, when! Out of nowhere!
The burner beneath the broccoli BURST INTO FLAMES! Flames! Big, yellow flames!
In the next few minutes, we all showcased how attentive we were during fire safety when:
-My father tried to blow it out;
-My mother shrilly screamed "Throw water on it! Water! WATER!";
-My brother took a tiny top to a pan and tried to shove it on top of it;
-And I ran around the kitchen throwing open cabinets screeching, "Baking powder! We need baking powder! BAKING POWDER!"
Of course, what we really needed was baking SODA, which I did find eventually, before the house was consumed by flames. The fire was effectively put out by yours truly (and no, I'm not too shy to take the credit), to my parents' amazement.
They asked, "You don't use water?"
And I stood there with the box of baking soda in one hand, going, "Grease fire! You use baking soda on a grease fire! And hey, why was there a grease fire?"
My father looked sheepish. "I may have spilled something on there before and, uh. Forgotten to get it up."
"Jimmy!" my mother scolded, and swatted him on the shoulder.
"What did you spill?" my brother asked.
"Kerosene?" I offered.
We never did find out.
I had to microwave my broccoli then, and it wasn't as good, but I was too afraid to try the stove again. Also enjoyable was how the smoke detector, which goes off every time we try to toast something more than lightly, did not respond AT ALL when there were flames shooting at the ceiling. That was nice.
The burner beneath the broccoli BURST INTO FLAMES! Flames! Big, yellow flames!
In the next few minutes, we all showcased how attentive we were during fire safety when:
-My father tried to blow it out;
-My mother shrilly screamed "Throw water on it! Water! WATER!";
-My brother took a tiny top to a pan and tried to shove it on top of it;
-And I ran around the kitchen throwing open cabinets screeching, "Baking powder! We need baking powder! BAKING POWDER!"
Of course, what we really needed was baking SODA, which I did find eventually, before the house was consumed by flames. The fire was effectively put out by yours truly (and no, I'm not too shy to take the credit), to my parents' amazement.
They asked, "You don't use water?"
And I stood there with the box of baking soda in one hand, going, "Grease fire! You use baking soda on a grease fire! And hey, why was there a grease fire?"
My father looked sheepish. "I may have spilled something on there before and, uh. Forgotten to get it up."
"Jimmy!" my mother scolded, and swatted him on the shoulder.
"What did you spill?" my brother asked.
"Kerosene?" I offered.
We never did find out.
I had to microwave my broccoli then, and it wasn't as good, but I was too afraid to try the stove again. Also enjoyable was how the smoke detector, which goes off every time we try to toast something more than lightly, did not respond AT ALL when there were flames shooting at the ceiling. That was nice.
