I will tell my rotfpimp moment.
My husband had wanted a smoker forever. We got one of the ones that is like a big can shape. Had a grill on top, several racks stacked in layers, and
a door on the bottom. Inside the door was the bottom rack above with a bowl where the smoking chips and water went, and the area where you lit the
We had an 8 foot long screened in patio off our apartment, only about 5 feet wide. I was sitting in a chair by the sliding glass door. We had been
struggling for HOURS trying to keep this thing smoking, the fire seemingly kept going out by design. The can shape design, well, just wasn't allowing
enough air flow.
Anyway, he was on his hands and knees, in front of the open bottom door. He squirted charcoal lighter fluid in. I gently stated over and over that I
thought this was a bad idea.
He chastised me, being the alpha male, that he knew what he was doing. I watched as the fire smouldered, not getting hotter, but in fact going out. It
was getting dark, night was setting in, we were all hungry, and it was looking like A Big Smoker Fail.
He added more fluid. And more. And more. And each time, I protested, I got dirty looks, so eventually, I gritted my teeth and sat quietly. He got up
and went inside, coming back twisting something. I asked what he was doing, and he had a paper towel he was going to light the end of, and reach into
the open door to re-light the now out - lighter fluid saturated wood chips...
I steeled myself in my chair, holding my breath, and against my protests he got back on his hands and knees again - and reached into the small door
with the flaming paper towel.
WOOSH!! It was over, literally in a flash. He sat back on his heels, staring up at me. The paper towel was nothing but black ash in his fingers. I
gasped, "Are you okay?!"
He looked at his now hairless arms and hands and gently touched his face, "Yeah, I think so.." he said, looking back up at me.
It was then I noticed. He had no eyebrows. His hairline had also receeded about a half an inch, and there was a wisp of smoke gently rising from the
top of his head.
That sealed it for me, being assured that he was alright, I lost it. It was his Wiley E. Coyote moment in the desert, and I was Bugs Bunny. The world
and everything in it ceased to exist as I watched that plume of smoke swirl up from the top of his head.
I leapt from the chair and ran inside, laughter bursting forth between the fingers I had slapped over my own mouth in an attempt to stifle and hide
the laugh. It was uncontrollable, and I was ashamed. I laughed, and he was mad, and still, 20 years later, he is still mad, and I am still
All his hair grew back, he was ok. And I am still laughing!
edit on 3-2-2013 by Libertygal because: (no reason given)