So, last night I was here, minding my own business, and I love it when people start stories that way. I mean, how many times are you minding someone else's business? Granted, right now you are sitting there minding my business, but whatever.
So, last night I was here, with my binoculars pressed to the window so I could see Peg undress or what have you, when my smoke alarm went off.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I mean, it was awful. You know how it is. Surely yours has gone off before too. Why do we have to have smoke alarms? Can't we just set on fire like the old days?
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
God. It was obNOXious. So I climbed onto the coffee table and tugged it this way and that till finally I pulled the thing off (official term) and got the battery out.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Dude. It KEPT MAKING THE SOUND. And did I ever tell you that Tallulah is deathly afraid of the smoke alarm? Back when I had a microwave (aaaaand here come the "You don't have a microwave?" comments), it used to set off the smoke alarm on a regular basis for some reason, and Talu was just a pup and it resulted in her developing a phobia of the MICROWAVE, for heaven's sake. You'd go to pop in a potato and she'd shiver her timbers.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I had no idea why the damn thing would keep going if the battery was out, so I got the scisssors, ripped the WHOLE THING down, and cut the wires. I mean, if you'd had an ear-splitting E going on for 15 minutes in your house, you'd risk shock at this point too.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
When Francis was a kitten, his mew sounded exactly like he was saying, "eee." Perhaps Fran was back to haunt me. Really loudly. Which would be like him.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
OH DEAR GOD. So finally I called nonemergency 911, which I think is 311, I forget now. I had to Google while 850 decibles of E were going off in my medulla.
"mdmfke gmfme eirngns," said the operator.
"WHAT?" I screamed. "There's an alarm going off and I can't hear you!" Because by the way?
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I was ready to kil everybody. The alarm inventor, whoever invented fire, the people who brought me the letter E, everyone. Or vryon.
The nonemergency woman at 311 finally bellowed that the fire department had to come over because you never knew why a smoke alarm would be going off. Maybe it was one of those invisible, not-hot, smoke-free fires we've heard so much about.
Wait. Firemen? Who stampeded to her makeup table and primped to the tune of EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?
I am happy to report that should I ever have an actual fire that needs putting out (hooo-hah), the fire department is over in a jiffy. I would also like to state for the record that not ONE NEIGHBOR has called to check on why the damn fire department was here, although perhaps it was impossible to miss The E! Network, over here.
Why are all firemen cute? Honestly. And they were all huge. Four of them, and they took up the entire living room. And you know how Edsel is. He loves people coming over, and he really loves men, and he REALLY REALLY loves manly men. In fact, when I was briefly dating a fireman (yes, I did think of calling him, but it seemed like a rude thing to do. "Hi! We haven't talked in months. Will you come fix my E?"), Edsel crawled up on the guy's lap, curled into a ball and fell asleep. He has never never done that with me.
"SO I GUESS YOU GOT A SMOKE ALARM GOING OFF!" Cute #1 said.
"OH, DO I? YOU'RE THE EXPERT!" I said, loving my own self. I was at this point in full makeup and had lifted and separated myself in my bra. I'd also thrown all my laundry and magazines and dishes that had been strewn about into the spare room, and prayed to God the fire was not in there.
In the meantime, Edsel had tied on my hottest hostess apron and was serving drinks. Oh, you should have seen him waggle and simper and smile at everyone, and to my dog trainer's credit, neither cur jumped on a single fireman.
The cats had dug to CHINA, so traumatized were they.
Anyway, they, too (the firemen, not the cats) couldn't figure out why the alarm continued to EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, and they asked if I had any other alarms in the house.
Had they not met Marvin? I have carbon monoxide alarms, weather alarms, burglar alarms, alarmists--you name it. Sadly, they asked if I had a CO2 alarm and I said, "No, but I have a carbon monoxide alarm." Later, mortified, I Googled it.
Sigh.
Meanwhile, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Dudes, they went in the attic, they moved furniture, they COULD NOT GET IT TO STOP. Then Cute #3, who was wearing a wedding ring as ALL OF THEM WERE, and COULD YOU THROW ME A BONE, GOD? said, "Oh! Look!"
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--silence.
Do y'all remember that stupid stupid stupid pad I bought a few months back? It was supposed to remain on the couch and beep when dogs jumped on it? That dumb thing never worked on the dogs, as they would just contort themselves to avoid it, so I put it on a shelf. Well, somehow it'd fallen over onto itself, AND THAT IS WHAT WAS BEEPING!
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I said, humiliated. The firemen laughed. All four of them. With their white teeth. I told them what it was, and said, "It doesn't work."
"Well, technically it WORKS," said Cute #4.
Then they noticed my smoke alarm on the table, and the fine collection of wires hanging from my ceiling, and after yelling at me for potentially shocking myself (I look at myself naked every day. Nothing's shocking after that), they commenced fixing it. Cute #1 turned off my breakers, then they all shone flashlights on the smoke alarm while Cute #2 wired it back up. I noticed Cute #3 holding Edsel's toy behind his back and playing tug-of-war with Eds while he flashlighted, and I decided that's the one I'd marry if he WEREN'T ALREADY MARRIED.
AGAIN, God. BONE!
Finally, my smoke alarm got finished, and I thanked them all and Edsel handed them the poem he had written them--Too Fyremin: I LOFF YU! and they were ready to go.
"Is this the dumbest call you've ever had to make?" I asked. I remember The Fireman who I dated complaining that you never see a cat skeleton in a tree.
"Mmmm. Second-dumbest," smiled Cute #3, as he manfully swung out my door.
Now I am obsessed with what could have been dumber. Do you think he was just being nice? Or blowing smoke up my--oh, never mind.
