Part I (here).
The front door was open to let out the smoke, making it unnecessary for the firemen to sink their axes into it.
A George Clooney look-a-like said, “We were just driving by on a grocery run and saw all the smoke. Is everything okay?”
Before I could answer, Mrs. C., wrapped in a wet towel, appeared at the top of the stairs. “What’s going on? Why is the smoke detector going…” Her voice trailed off at the sight of firemen standing in our foyer. She may have giggled. I’m sure she did. She would later deny it.
“Sorry, guys,” I said, “but it’s just a small grease fire, nothing to worry about.”
As it turned out, there was much to worry about. Read more (here).