… or, Honey, I Fried The Car!
Oh, the horror: When weenie roasts go bad.
Kudos to the police spokesman for that last line.
I like the friend with 3 to 5 liters of gasoline, just in case a glass of it wasn’t enough to get the grill going.
If “barbeque” is police-speak for “have sex again,” I agree. Note that a wife’s car went up in flames too.
Yeh, she must have been one helluva sour kraut about the car-charring.