Just when breakfast was about to be served, I heard Maw yell: “Come down here”! Earlier, I had ran upstairs in the hopes of quickly changing from my church clothes into my comfortable, grungy clothes. She told me I had started a fire. For whatever reason, she craned her next quickly to the right. It was a sense from her “guardian angel” telling of danger.
That’s right! I’m prone to starting fire, just by leaving the stove burner on. I was steaming three frozen chicken burritos in the usual steamer, which had the smell of burned plastic from the looks of what was once a light, gray-colored handle charred into melted black. The powerful fan sucked out the bad air but thank goodness the food was still good. Later on, I removed the two screws and threw away the now sharpened handles away.
It wasn’t the first time I started a fire indoors. Long ago, I was trying to cook something but needed to warm up some oil. Again, I left the stove unattended but was still downstairs. Of course, the orange-colored flash burn of fire started up because the oil was too hot, one could feel the heat just standing one feet away. At least the boy was nearby to offer assitance to put out the flames.
Other times would be a kettle of boiling water. Paw usually doesn’t care to remove the container from the burner and let the whistling sound continue until I came back to turn off the stove. That’s
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