happened?”
“Laura,” Carol yelled, “Come get your son
before he does any more damage.” Which was a little unfair, but not
much. “Jason, Mom, get this blinking tree off us.”
Her father was equally entangled in the
fragrant greenery. When he wriggled, trying to get the needles out
of his eyes, it shook the tree even more. A few more ornaments fell
off and plopped against the wood. Amazingly, some of them landed
intact and rolled off the platform onto the floor.
Jason and her mother heaved the tree up and
off them. Carol turned and lent a hand to getting it set upright
and making sure it was stable in the stand. More pine needles
dripped out of her hair each time she moved her head. A few had
caught in her sweater and poked her through it.
Laura picked up her rambunctious son and
managed to snag the equally enthusiastic puppy in her other arm as
it ran back by. She disappeared into the guest bedroom with her
giggling child tucked in one arm and the yipping puppy in the
other, leaving behind the destruction they’d wrought.
Carol, Jason and their father gathered up the
undamaged ornaments and returned them to the tree while her mother
got a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shards of those that hadn’t
survived.
They hadn’t quite finished cleaning that up
when the smoke detector outside the kitchen began to scream a
warning. Carol looked up, startled. She’d been so involved in the
chase and the tree that she hadn’t really noticed the smell of
smoke. Besides, they were all used to her mother burning things, so
it didn’t always register.
“My pie!” her mother screamed and headed for
the kitchen. The smell had grown stronger as tendrils of dark smoke
floated into the living room.
“Wait,” she called as her mother reached for
the oven door. “Don’t open it. Just turn it off.” Carol followed
her into the kitchen. A look through the oven’s window confirmed
her suspicion. Little tongues of flame lit the area inside. Her
mother glanced at her, nodded and reached carefully for the switch
to flip it off.
Carol dug in the pantry closet and found the
fire extinguisher. After pulling out the pin, she waited. It took a
few minutes, but without the heat feeding them, the flames finally
died down. She continued to watch it while her mother went around
opening windows and propping doors ajar to let in fresh, cold
December air.
Two pots sitting on the stove-top were
emitting suspicious aromas as well. Gingerly, keeping the fire
extinguisher handy, she raised lids. One pot held a thick
orangey-red sludge that smelled like very burnt tomato sauce. The
other one still had half an inch of water in the bottom, with a
large gooey lump of badly overcooked pasta sitting in the middle.
She turned the heat off under both.
From back in the guest room, she heard the
dog yip and whine. She hoped it meant Laura had him contained
somehow. Then Matthew started whining as well.
Carol carefully opened the oven door. Nothing
flamed up again, but the oven was a disaster, with semi-carbonized
blobs of goo all over the place and a pile of it at the bottom.
What was supposed to be an apple pie looked like a charred
cardboard disc surrounding sticky black lumps.
She put both pots to soak in the sink, but
the pie pan was a goner. It went into a trash bag along with its
contents and the contents of both pots. Carol trotted the bag right
out to the trash bin outside. By the time she got back, her mother
stood in the kitchen, considering the mess with a bemused
expression.
“I guess we’ll have to open some cans for
dinner,” she said.
Carol nodded.
They ate canned spaghetti and wieners, canned
green beans and canned fruit for dinner. Afterward they hung
stockings, Laura disappeared to put Matt to bed and her mom broke
out the eggnog. Her father added a dollop of bourbon to everyone’s
cup but Jason’s. She noticed he put a second, larger dash in his
own cup. Someone had swept up the glass and rearranged the
ornaments
“Laura,” Carol yelled, “Come get your son
before he does any more damage.” Which was a little unfair, but not
much. “Jason, Mom, get this blinking tree off us.”
Her father was equally entangled in the
fragrant greenery. When he wriggled, trying to get the needles out
of his eyes, it shook the tree even more. A few more ornaments fell
off and plopped against the wood. Amazingly, some of them landed
intact and rolled off the platform onto the floor.
Jason and her mother heaved the tree up and
off them. Carol turned and lent a hand to getting it set upright
and making sure it was stable in the stand. More pine needles
dripped out of her hair each time she moved her head. A few had
caught in her sweater and poked her through it.
Laura picked up her rambunctious son and
managed to snag the equally enthusiastic puppy in her other arm as
it ran back by. She disappeared into the guest bedroom with her
giggling child tucked in one arm and the yipping puppy in the
other, leaving behind the destruction they’d wrought.
Carol, Jason and their father gathered up the
undamaged ornaments and returned them to the tree while her mother
got a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shards of those that hadn’t
survived.
They hadn’t quite finished cleaning that up
when the smoke detector outside the kitchen began to scream a
warning. Carol looked up, startled. She’d been so involved in the
chase and the tree that she hadn’t really noticed the smell of
smoke. Besides, they were all used to her mother burning things, so
it didn’t always register.
“My pie!” her mother screamed and headed for
the kitchen. The smell had grown stronger as tendrils of dark smoke
floated into the living room.
“Wait,” she called as her mother reached for
the oven door. “Don’t open it. Just turn it off.” Carol followed
her into the kitchen. A look through the oven’s window confirmed
her suspicion. Little tongues of flame lit the area inside. Her
mother glanced at her, nodded and reached carefully for the switch
to flip it off.
Carol dug in the pantry closet and found the
fire extinguisher. After pulling out the pin, she waited. It took a
few minutes, but without the heat feeding them, the flames finally
died down. She continued to watch it while her mother went around
opening windows and propping doors ajar to let in fresh, cold
December air.
Two pots sitting on the stove-top were
emitting suspicious aromas as well. Gingerly, keeping the fire
extinguisher handy, she raised lids. One pot held a thick
orangey-red sludge that smelled like very burnt tomato sauce. The
other one still had half an inch of water in the bottom, with a
large gooey lump of badly overcooked pasta sitting in the middle.
She turned the heat off under both.
From back in the guest room, she heard the
dog yip and whine. She hoped it meant Laura had him contained
somehow. Then Matthew started whining as well.
Carol carefully opened the oven door. Nothing
flamed up again, but the oven was a disaster, with semi-carbonized
blobs of goo all over the place and a pile of it at the bottom.
What was supposed to be an apple pie looked like a charred
cardboard disc surrounding sticky black lumps.
She put both pots to soak in the sink, but
the pie pan was a goner. It went into a trash bag along with its
contents and the contents of both pots. Carol trotted the bag right
out to the trash bin outside. By the time she got back, her mother
stood in the kitchen, considering the mess with a bemused
expression.
“I guess we’ll have to open some cans for
dinner,” she said.
Carol nodded.
They ate canned spaghetti and wieners, canned
green beans and canned fruit for dinner. Afterward they hung
stockings, Laura disappeared to put Matt to bed and her mom broke
out the eggnog. Her father added a dollop of bourbon to everyone’s
cup but Jason’s. She noticed he put a second, larger dash in his
own cup. Someone had swept up the glass and rearranged the
ornaments
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