The Unintentional Arsonist: Part II

Remember that time our dear Bryanne lit her shirt on fire making a can of Campbell's soup?

Well it seems that this would not be the last fiery incident in her life.

One summer afternoon, Bryanne was hanging out with some friends and her sisters at their home with little to no adult supervision. (Also, when I say little to no, I mean there was no supervision.  Bryanne is 15 at this point, so most 15 year old girls are capable of being left alone right?) 

Hunger struck the group with such force that they were all moved to the kitchen to decide what to make.  Bryanne decided that homemade french fries for lunch would be a worthy effort. 

Had she ever made homemade french fries? 

Oh no.

 But had she seen her parents do it before? 

Sure she had, she should be able to do it right?

First Mistake. 

Bryanne proceeds to cuts up the potatoes, and not wanting them to turn brown, puts them in a large bowl of water as she prepared the rest. 

Second Mistake.

Ryanne....Bryanne take the vegetable oil and pours about half the bottle into a large pot, places it on the stove and puts the burner on high to heat up. 

Third Mistake.

When all had been prepared, Bryanne, a tab nervous but over all excited for a glorious fried treat, takes the smallest fry she can, straight out of the bowl of water and pops it in the very large pot of VERY hot oil.

All hell breaks loose at this point. 

The oil, reacting against the water on the fry begins to bubble....it bubbled a lot.  Soon the oil is spilling over the large pot....onto a RED HOT BURNER.  

What can only be described as the PILLAR OF FIRE like unto the one sent down from God to the  Hebrews fleeing Egypt, shoots up to the ceiling from the stove!

View as seen by Bryanne.  

There was much weeping and wailing and nashing of teeth, as we....I mean Bryanne and her friend   .... Topher ran out of the kitchen in pure and utter terror!

Eventually, the pillar subsided and a cool and collected Bryanne screams, with her hands on her face, "CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT! CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!!!"

The fire was already out. Topher started laughing at her reaction. Rude. 

They inspected the damage.

The floor was as slick as a Mario Cart banana from all the oil spewed from the pot. 

The little tiny french fry was a solid black mass, and there were black marks on the ceiling and little crying girls everywhere. 

There would no merry lunch of french fries that day. 

Only slick floors and shame were served. 

The floor eventually came clean, but the ceiling, no matter how hard Bryanne's mother scrubbed, was tattooed with burn marks, until the day they moved out. 

It served as a warning for Bryanne, to never mess with that wretched stove again....still to this day she avoids cooking at all costs. 

That Poor Poor Bryanne. 

She never had a chance.