A few months ago, I spent an afternoon hanging out on Andy’s roof, laying in the sun all day and gossiping about gay things. I finally dragged my burnt ass home and starving, found an old leftover quesadilla. Not wanting the quesadilla soggy and microwaved, I threw it on the stove and then promptly forgot about it. Covered in suntan oil and urban smog residue, I decided to take a shower.
I emerged from the shower, delightfully clean and oblivious when I suddenly noticed smoke. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
With that, my fire alarm proceeded to begin screaming. I threw the flaming pan of quesadilla in the sink, turned the water on, and clad in nothing but a towel, began wildly fanning smoke around the house with a Vanity Fair.
It is at this point that Bonnie calls.
“Oh my god! What’s going ?”
“Oh nothing. I’m a huge idiot and I left something on the stove and now the house is filled with smoke and I can’t get this stupid fire alarm to shut up.”
“Well, it’s nice to know our big fancy alarm system works. I hope it won’t call the fire department.”
“Oh, relax.” I said, trying to downplay my huge mistake which almost destroyed our home. “I’ve got it under control.”
Because at this point, I was able to make the fire alarm stop periodically, although it would inevitably start up again. I just needed to fan this fucking smoke out of the damn house. Suddenly, I heard sirens in the distance.
“Uh, Bonnie. I hope those aren’t for me.”
“What? Those sirens?”
“Yeah. They sound far away, though.”
“I know. There’s always sirens going off in our ghetto ass neighborhood.”
With that, 4 fire trucks pull up in front of my house.
“Oh shit. I’ve got to go.”
“Call me ba…”
Huge manly knocks pound on my door as I wrap my towel as tight as possible and open the door to an entire fucking ladder company. They stomped into the house, clad in the complete fireman ensemble, rolling their eyes at me as I showed them the burnt quesadilla sitting in the sink, water still falling from my hair onto the smoking pan.
The gorgeous firemen could not have seemed more annoyed and quite frankly, I don’t blame them. After a stern lecture and diverted eyes, they shuffled back out, past the crowd of neighbors who had formed outside. Four fire trucks slowly pulled away as I bowed my head, closed my door and debated whether to laugh or cry…