I was so ready to enjoy supper tonight: BBQ ribs and baked potatoes hot from the grill. Yum. I had been looking forward to the meal all day. And Da Man is the galloping grill boy, for real.
He starts cooking and then we get playing around on the computer. I smelled something but didn't say anything. Suddenly he jumped off from his chair and said, "Shit. The grill is on fire." There were no exclamation points in his statement, no verbal cause of alarm, so I stayed here and continued to play on the computer.
Suddenly from the kitchen comes this scream of, "Fuck! Didn't you hear me say the grill is on fire?!?!?!? HELP ME!!!" Then I freaked. When I ran out the back door there was nothing to be seen but smoke. Seriously, I could barely see Da Man standing there. He was throwing water on the grill.
"Don't throw water on a grease fire, asshole! Get some flour or something!" So I ran inside and got the flour for him. I took it outside and the flames had grown to the point of pure panic. Da Man opened the lid, sending oxygen into the flames, and I thought for sure he had been burned. I was handling it until I saw the flames on the propane tank. Then I freaked.
I ran inside to get the phone because neither the water or flour was working to extinguish the flames. I kept screaming at him, "It's gonna blow! Get the hell away from the tank!"
I ran upstairs and told mom what was going on in case the grill really did blow. She had the girls and I had visions of them being trapped upstairs. Little did I know at that very same time, Da Man was mentally figuring out how to get everyone out of the house. I would have freaked for sure then because he's always the calm one.
Mom ran out onto the deck and started screaming, "Throw some water on it! Throw some water on it!" Da Man screamed back, "I am throwing water on it!"
I had the 9 dialed when suddenly the smoke disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. And we had dinner from KFC.