"Dave? I really hate to bother you, but there's a
fire." She said this with the same
amount of excitement in her voice as if she'd discovered weeds in the lawn. In
dreamland, I had no idea who I was talking to when I woke up and found my self
on the phone.
"Huh?" I said.
"A large, with pepperoni and onions."
"No, you have to go to
the fire.” Now her voice was raised, as
though what she had thought to be weeds were instead poisonous vines snaking
her way.
“FIre, Dave. F-I-R-E.”
“Call the fire department,” I
said. I was logical, if not yet fully in
gear.
“There’s a FIRE, DAVE!" she shouted.
I came fully awake and croaked,
"Where's the fire?"
"Well, do you know where
Bonnie Jones ran over the chicken last year on the Kings Highway?" she said.
"No, Mary, I don't know
where =="
"Oh, sure you do! Wait.
Put your wife on the phone. She'll remember."
I passed the phone to my
wife, now awake, and jumped out of bed.
"Hi Mary," said my
wife. "Is little Beth still sick
with the flu?"
"Where the hell is the f#%$-ing
fire!" I hollered as I repeatedly tried to jam my feet into my fire boots,
unaware that a moment before I'd automatically put my shoes on.
"Mary," said my
wife, "David was wondering if you could tell him where the fire is."
"Of course I'm wondering
where the f#%$-ing fire is!” I shouted.
"I'm a f#%$-ing fireman!"
Trying to pull up all my
zippers, I ran to the closet and rummaged around for my fire helmet. “Who’s been using my f%#$-ing fire helmet?"
I cursed.
I envisioned one of the kids making
Kool Aid in it.
"Where did Bonnie Jones
run over the chicken last year?” I screamed.
"Oh," said my wife,
"I don't know, dear. Wait, I'll ask
Mary. Mary, David’s in an awful rush, but he wants to know where Bonnie Jones ran
over a .... You know, I think it was
turkey. Mary, wasn't it a turkey?"
"How can I go to my
first fire without my helmet?" I cried.
I stumbled out of the
bedroom, headed for the driveway. My
wife ran down the hall after me, shouting,
“Mary agrees it was a turkey, dear.”
I hoped that once on the road
I’d come across another fireman and follow his pulsing blue light to the fire
in the dead of night
I arrived at the fire wearing
a Boston Red Sox cap. The chief is a
Yankees fan. Declaring me dressed in an
unsafe manner, he sent me out to buy coffee for everyone.
Mary told her husband later
she really didn't like calling me in the middle of the night, and she suspected
I had an anger problem. Only when I
can't find my helmet.
copyright 2012, David Griffin
The Windswept Press
Murrells
Inlet, South Carolina
