It’s Christmas day. I decide to cook breakfast for my family. My Dad asks for toast, which means using the grill. I want to use tinfoil to avoid the toast contaminating the grill with crumbs of gluten. However, there is no tinfoil. But there is baking paper. An image flashes in my head of the paper burning, causing the smoke alarm to go off. But as long as I keep the stairs door shut, the smoke alarm won’t go off.
So I put the baking paper and bread into the grill. A couple of minutes later, I notice flames in the grill. I pull it out. “Oh!” I say, calmly. “There’s a fire.”
Unfortunately, this gets Lisa’s attention. “Oh my god,” she says, “There’s a fire! You need to put it out or the house could burn down! Put it out, Paul!”
I try to blow it out but this doesn’t work. The fire is consuming the baking paper. I stay calm because I know that once the paper is completely burned, the fire will die naturally. I tell Lisa this, but she insists I put the fire out now. She dampens a teatowel and throws it on the fire. Then she grabs the teatowel, along with some of the burnt paper, and dumps it in the sink.
Dad comes in and says, “Bloody hell Paul, don’t you know that fire burns?” He opens the stairs door. Then the smoke alarm goes off.