Fire in the Kitchen

"There's a fire in the kitchen!" I said softly and dully to my brother and sister while staring eerily up the stairs.

They looked up the stairs towards the kitchen which was beyond view of where we were and looked back at the TV. "You're crazy." I think my brother muttered, perturbed that he had been interrupted by this unsubstantiated claim.

A few minutes later, my mother got up from her comfortable 5 o'clock chair position in the living room where she and dad read the newspaper while sipping on their Manhattans every night. Into the kitchen she went to check on dinner. "Dad! Fire!" We all heard her cry of distress.

Dad got up from his comfortable 5 o'clock position, went into the kitchen, grabbed the cast iron skillet that was aflame, and threw it out the front door, burning his hand with the hot grease.

All of our hearts pounded.