Ba-dum-BUMP! Witty Retort Du 2010....so far.

Any one of you that has been reading my blog for at least, oh.... 3 years or so, may know that My Clint is a firefighter. And we hang out with a bunch of other firefighters, most of whom have not signed waivers to let me post their names, stories, or photos. I'm still pussyfooting around Firefighter Confidentiality Laws, which are entirely unwritten thus far. That leaves me weighing stories I hear and things I see on the Scales of Common Sense.

So far, the laws I've observed are:

1. What happens at the campground stays at the campground.
    1a. I have no idea what that means, I've never seen anything at the campground.

2. Anything that is stupid funny or wickedly clever should be posted on my blog for the benefit of your laughter.

I don't know who that is, where that photo came from, or how to get it off of my blog.

(Trans: No waiver to post this photo, so laugh now before the cease-and- desist order arrives)

That said, I heard a story last week that I feel compelled to share with you.

Clint & Co. were recently called out just before midnight to an apartment building because a smoke detector was going off , and it smelled like smoke in the building.


They rushed up to the third floor where the smoke detector was going off, and managed to get themselves into the smoking efficiency apartment.

Once inside, they found an oven billowing smoke that had engulfed the apartment, a female occupant, sound asleep on her bed, with the smoke alarm screeching from approximately 6 feet above her head. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. A smoke alarm; have you ever left your biscuits too long in the oven and had one go off on you? It's piercing! You want to hit the ground and rub your ears on the floor, like poor doggies when dog whistles are blown. To sleep through one is inconceivable.

Still, she slept. Soundly. While Clint ran to the oven and his partner ran to check on Ms. Tenant, she sat up with a start. Can you freakin' imagine?!! Waking up to all that noise, and men with giant coats and airpacks and helmets on, standing in your bedroom?

"GAhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed, "What's going on?"*

And Clint, without missing a beat, pulled a pan out of the oven and said:

“Your fries are done.”

___________________________

*I'm dying to stop at the punchline, but I just can't leave it alone. Who wakes up with 2 aliens in their bedroom and says "What's going on?" I've watched too much CSI or something; I'd turn in to a human shredder, and start swinging my arms faster than the Road Runner's legs.