Life in a mall
As I threw the bag into the trash can, I wondered if the bag would hit the fire alarm and set it off, which it did.
As I threw the bag into the trash can, I wondered if the bag would hit the fire alarm and set it off, which it did.
All my mom's kids have two middle names, but one of mine comes from a woman whose son set the fire that killed her in her sleep.
If it weren't for our stupid cat yowling for his breakfast, our house probably would've burned down that morning.
I called my dad from my dorm to bitch about my dvd player not working only to be told that my home was on fire.
Hopefully, my streak of having to call 911 on Thanksgiving will not continue this year.
On average, I deliberately set a person's hair on fire every twelve years or so.
After the third fire alarm of the week, we stopped evacuating the building, because we figured the cold outside would probably kill us faster than the little infernos in the cafeteria downstairs.
The only reason I don't feel guilty about drinking at age 14 is because I helped save a family from their house burning down while on my way to the store to get beer.
I never thought that one day I would come home to a fire truck in my drive way and my dad valiantly dousing the trees with a hose after our burn pile shifted to the woods, but it has made an excellent dinner story at every family gathering since.
I curled up in bed after my shower, naked as the day I was born, not expecting the fire alarm to go off at 4 am in my co-ed dorm.
It's amazing how fast you can run when something's on fire.
While I was running around screaming about the huge fire I caused in the dorm kitchen, a girl wearing pajamas calmly walked in, extinguished the fire, and asked me to keep it down because she was trying to study.
The correct response to your wife after coming home from an emergency call only to find that your son had caught the majority of the backyard on fire is not, "That's what you called me home for?"
Moments after my three year old son stated, "I help Daddy," I came to realize that our Christmas tree was on fire.
I almost had to repeat the ninth grade for attempted arson, all because the three of us were bored at lunch and decided to try to light my sandwich on fire.
I did not intend to start my day at 2am by being woken up by someone shouting, "Fire!"
I learned to believe a person when they say, "Trust me, thats flammable."
It is strange that it was the sound of crackling that awoke me, not the flames rising from my lap.
After narrowly preventing a smouldering towel from burning our house down, the thing that affected me most was realising that we really own far too many useless, wasteful objects, and if they had all been lost, I would truly miss very few of them.
Only then did I realize how much I had when she told her daughter they lost everything in the fire.
The walls aren't flame-retardant for up to one hour, so we have to move.
One thing I used to obsess about was how I'd get my dog out of my window to save him when my house was on fire.
Setting your textbooks on fire in a garbage can in your backyard is not a good idea.
As the fire grew larger and larger and the dumpster grew ablaze, I felt only the heat of guilt as my friend stared remorsefully out the window when the police arrived.
I didn't realize my house was on fire until a complete stranger opened the front door and I thought to myself over the high-bass classic rock, "Is someone downstairs cooking waffles?"
After we put out the fire in the front seat, we drank some of the beer that was in the cooler in the back seat.
My friend Bob loved his vinyl records so much that he used to obsess about which ones to save if his house caught fire but when it actually happened he chose his girlfriend instead.
One Saturday morning when I was three I decided I wanted Jiffy-Pop, but I couldn't read so I didn't take the paper top off and almost set the kitchen on fire while my siblings watched cartoons and my parents slept in.