I'm All Fired Up

I don't know why, but whenever I touch something there's a very good chance it will catch on fire. It's getting ridiculous. Here is just a short list of things that have burst into flames around me lately: my drums, the broom, my big toenail, my favorite t-shirt, a bowl of chocolate chunk cherry ice cream, and even my goldfish. Luckily the goldfish survived! (But then I forgot to feed him and he decided to stop living.)

It's not like I "hate" fire. Fire can be great if you're trying to roast some beef, or a marshmallow, or a weenie. I just don't like fire when it gets all over my stuff. That's why I thought it would be a good idea if I became a volunteer firefighter. Then I wouldn't have to call the fire department EVERY time I accidentally turned my apartment into a giant burning mess. Last time it happened, Fire Chief Dave told me he was tired of coming over. (Although that didn't seem to stop him from drinking all my Mango Wahoo Punch.)

In order to become a certified volunteer firefighter I learned you have to take a written quiz, pass a psychological evaluation and do 10 hours of on-the-job training -- it turns out they also have a very strict rule that you can't set ANYTHING on fire during the entire process! So here's how it went down:

During the written quiz, my pencil caught on fire. I shoved it in my pants so no one would see. But then my pants caught on fire and I ran to the bathroom to put them out in the sink. When I came back the Fire Chief asked why my pants were all wet. I didn't want to get in trouble, so I played it cool and told him it was just pee. (Smart, right?!)

During the psychological exam it came out that I'm afraid of hoses, ladders and Dalmatians. (Apparently they take away 3 points for each thing you're terrified of.)

My "on the job training" started this morning. When my emergency radio went off to notify me of a fire in the city, I thought it was the alarm on my clock radio and threw it across the room, breaking it in a million pieces. I woke up four hours later and saw on the news that the fire was at a factory that makes chocolate chip cookie dough. The factory burned down, but luckily no one was hurt. And they did set the record for the world's largest burnt cookie.

I needed to get some eggs from the grocery store so I borrowed the fire truck. Since I was just running in and out of the store, I didn't put a quarter in the meter. When I came back out, I saw the police towing the truck away. Turns out that the Seattle Volunteer Fire Department beat the Seattle Volunteer Police Department in a big kickball game and they're still miffed about it.

For all of the reasons above, I was not able to become a volunteer firefighter. But I had so much fun trying to become one, I sent the Fire Chief a sculpture-- it was a beautiful red fire hydrant that lit up at night. He loved it so much he displayed it right in the middle of the fire house. Well, he displayed it until an electrical shortage caused it to burst into flames and burn down the fire station. (Oopsie! Sorry, Fire Chief Dave!)

Late,
Spencer

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