I stumbled into my living room, bewildered. The apartment smelled of fish.
I ran to the oven and turned it off.
I picked up the phone and called 911 to issue a retraction.
"I'll cancel the police," the operator said -- the police were coming too?? -- "but the firemen have to come anyway, just to check."
Oh dear. Oh dear.
I started preparing for visitors, cleaning up 2 piles of cat vomit. I poured a glass of Fresca. I checked on the fish.
"Helloo . . . " the door opened.
Six large men filed into my living room. They were in full fireman regalia: big black suits, conelike hats, crowbars, giant silver fire extinguishers. They all were over six feet tall. Head Fireman had ice blue eyes.
"So, you got in okay."
"Yeah! Yeah. My neighbor's key worked. Scary, right? Ha, ha!"
Yikes -- I am so braless.
"Here, kitty." Head Fireman strode toward the kitchen and Saro ran like hell.
He opened the oven door. "Looks good."
"Yeah, it's an old oven, but it's nice."
"No, the fish."
"Oh! Yeah."
"So you're all okay here."
"Yup, we're all . . . here."
"Enjoy your dinner!" Exeunt firemen.
Head Fireman opened the door again and pointed toward a little plastic bag of trash outside the door. "You're going to take care of this?"
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He opened the oven door. "Looks good."
"You don't look so bad yourself," I noted.
He looked up, and I felt his icy blue eyes penetrate my being.
"Boys, perhaps you can help me," I said. "True, there might not be a fire. But there is work to be done nonetheless. In all the commotion, I seem to have misplaced my brazeer."
Ha! That was a really good story. Glad it turned out all right.
heehooohaaahee! Firemen are hot. I once called the firemen because I saw a trashcan on fire. They all came in full regalia, but when they tried to flirt with me the dog I was walking barked at them. Damn dog.
I'm going to start setting fires.
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