I know, I know, I know…just ignore those 2 months, OK? DO THIS FOR ME. I NEED IT.
So! Hey! On Saturday night I rescued my neighbor’s dog from her burning apartment and was praised by Denis Leary!
(RE: The Above: All lies)
(RE: The Above: Well, more like severe exaggerations than all-out lies)
Let me explain.
I was getting ready to head out the door early on Saturday evening to meet a friend for dinner when I heard an alarm going off. After a few minutes it didn’t stop, so I went downstairs and asked my roommate if she knew what it was. We kinda stood in the living room with our heads tilted staring off into space for a bit, then she said “is that a fire alarm?” We went out on our front porch, where it was much louder, and could tell that it was definitely coming from our neighbor. I live in a townhouse, so by “our neighbor” I actually mean “OMFG THE HOUSE THAT SHARES A WALL WITH MY BEDROOM WHERE ALL MY BOOKS ARE” and in a millisecond pictured my bookshelves bursting into immediate flame and consuming everything. Molly and I just stared at each other with eyebrows raised for a moment before she said “I’m going to call the police.” She did.
To further set the scene, their dog was going fucking apeshit this entire time. It was simultaneously irritating and scary.
It is also important to remember that it about 9 degrees at the time (no, seriously- that is not exaggeration) and we were both in our pjs (yes, at 6 PM- shut up).
Molly: Damn! It is very cold out here. I guess if we’re going to wait for the police we should put on some real clothes.
Me: What if they send FIREMEN!? I need to go put on mascara!
Twenty minutes later, fully dressed and suitably bundled, the police hadn’t shown up yet, though we had seen a police car drive by our street a couple of times and never stop. By this point, the alarm had started to holler “EVACUATE EVACUATE EVACUATE” which was creepy. So far we hadn’t seen any smoke, and we had looked in all the windows we could, so we were still pretty nonchalant.
Then the dog stopped barking. I immediately pulled out my phone and called 911 again- this time asking for fire specifically. Also, about this time, I got my first whiff of smoke. I wouldn’t say I was frantic on the phone, but I will say they were there in a couple of minutes. When they pulled up in front of our house, this guy got out:
No joke. The resemblance was so uncanny that my jaw dropped. If I hadn’t been A) frozen to death and B) freaked the hell out I would have said something to him. Instead I just laughed one loud, ridiculous “HAR!” and waited for the questions to start.
How long has it been going off? Uhhh…20ish minutes?
Have you seen any fire or smoke? Nope, but we could smell it a bit.
Do you have their contact info? No…and isn’t that bizarre? They are our next door neighbors! What is this world coming to, etc., etc., etc.?
They peeked in the front windows and then sorta nodded at each other with furrowed brows and one of them said “I’m going to head out back and see if I can get in that way.” Two of them went around the back and the other three chatted with each other in the front yard and then the one of them came back around the house and started pulling out the big hose.
Molly and I looked at each other, panicked, and our eyebrows shot up. “Oh, SHIT” I said, “I didn’t ACTUALLY think the house was on fire!” We went around the back just in time to see them bust out the window of the back door. Denis Leary reached his hand into the broken window, unlocked the door, and opened it up. Black, awful-smelling smoke absolutely POURED out of the door. “SERIOUSLY! Holy SHIT” I said again. “How is our house not burned down?”
I heard one of them yell “the stove!” and Denis ran in, only to reappear moments later holding a small saucepan, from which the smoke was emanating. The firemen shook their heads with frustration as Molly and I gaped at each other. Really? That caused all of this? A burner left on?
At that point one of the other firemen came out of the house and said “Do you know the dog’s name?” “No! Is he OK?!” “I guess so- he’s just laying on the couch looking at me without a care in the world. Do you want to come get him? It probably isn’t good for him to be breathing all this smoke.” Molly went and got a leash from our house and took him out to the front yard where he proceeded to be as nervous and scared and heartbreaking as you can possible imagine. I think seeing the firemen going in and out of his house and having the big, flashing truck scared him, so we brought him into our house where he proceeded to roll around on the rug in the living room and turn Molly’s cat into a LOLCat (full on puffed up tail, arched back, trying to run away so fast that his little claws couldn’t get purchase on the floor and he just ran in place- it was HILARIOUS).
As the firemen were packing up their fans and leaving a note on the door (Sorry we broke your window, dumbass! Don’t leave the stove on!”), I apologized to Denis for spending god knows how many tax dollars on a smoking pan.
“Nope. That’s fine. That’s how house fires start. (except he said it like “Dat’s how house fiyahs staht.”) You did the right thing.”
And the damn policed never even showed!