One beautiful afternoon, while loitering in my residence in front of this scientific device, a deafening boom filled my ears. The glass of beer I was holding at the time was in no way prepared for the jolt my body produced. In nature’s grand scheme of things, prevention of beer spillage takes a back seat to say, shitting ones pants. In what next can only be described as an ancient instinctual survival maneuver, I then strategically fell off my chair.
As I lay on the floor in a tactically advantageous position I noticed two things immediately. One, our carpet was in fact gray just as my wife insisted and not the coffee color that I thought I saw when I purchased it. And two: That sounded precisely like gunfire. There was no doubt in my mind. I’ve heard gunplay before, and brother this was it.
I crawled like an army man over to the wall beneath the window and slowly started to ascend until I could examine the outlying parameter of my yard. No one was there. I then ran to the face of my domicile and peeked out the window and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I waited a few more minutes until a little old lady walked by with a baby stroller and I knew that I needed to do something.
Blood coursed through my veins. Testosterone levels shot through the roof. I was pumped! In one bold maneuver I threw open the window and yelled out to the old lady. “Help me, there’s a crazy man out there with a gun!” And I retreated to the battleship gray carpet where it was safe. After an hour or so I felt that it was safe to get up and meander outside. Everything was as it should have been. Did I dream this whole horror? No, I did not.
Weeks passed and I’ve heard several giant beer spilling booms but came no further in solving this deadly mystery. Was there a new Asian gang in the neighborhood? Was the Philippine lady next door trying to break the sound barrier with her riding mower? I could only wish.
On a chilly morning not long after, I went into the basement with my daughter to fetch something. I stood near the heater as it was trying to ignite. Something in me felt that this was taking far too long. Possibly it was the strong smells of gas. I reached down to engage the emergency kill switch on the heater. At the same time, in my mind, I began to connect the gunshots I was hearing to the strong gas odor accompanied with the sparking heater igniter. Click click click………… BOOM!
Yes! That was the boom I was hearing! I finally solved the mystery. Off in the distance I could hear my young daughter yelling something. What was it? “Dad, you are gold!” or “I’m so enthralled!” It became clearer. “Mop top and hole”?? “ Stop! Drop! And Roll!” my daughter was yelling! Yes! Stop drop and Roll! But why?
In my excitement I hadn’t realized that the heater had set my jacket on fire. So in an almost Darwinian maneuver I dropped to the floor and rolled around like a break-dancer on a new piece of cardboard. And my daughter was there to take something away from this. She could revel in the knowledge that she was part of an extraordinary gene pool of fit survivors.
