Fire Marshal Martin

Another from the Wife's files on Martin:

So, last night, Martin decides he wants to cook some steak.

We've got these cast iron skillets, and martin insists on "cleaning" them by just cooking oil in them. (personally, this grosses me out, whether or not this is "how it's done", and I end up washing them normally when he's not looking. Shh....)

Anyhow, he pours oil in a pan, gets a phone call about some computer issue, and LEAVES THE OIL COOKING IN THE PAN.

I'm sitting in the livingroom, and i hear this *POOF*. I look into the kitchen area, and see an eerie orange glow. Uht oh. So, I hastily put the baby down, run into the kitchen, and see this:

So, i'm screaming "FIRE!", and martin comes running into the kitchen, picks up the frying pan, is holding it out in the middle of the kitchen, screaming "Baking Soda!".

Meanwhile, ALL of the fire alarms in the house have gone off, startling the baby into crying, the cat into histronics, and probably our neighbors wondering what the hell is going on. (I should state that Arianna slept through the ENTIRE commotion.)

I can't find baking soda, martin realizes "cast iron skillet + Fire = HOT!, and sets the pan BACK ON THE STOVE, and it's still flaming. I'm yelling at him to take it outside, not to put it back under WOODEN CABINENTS, and he runs out the back door w/ flaming skillet of death.

It finally went out on the back porch.

I'm guessing our neighbors think we're crackheads.

Martin took it as an Omen to NOT cook, and we had hot pockets for dinner.