Today, I could've been fired, quite easily. You see, I set a trash can on fire at work in the kitchen. Oh, I put it out, of course. Man, it was funny.
So I'm at brunch at the Scottish Place, and we're all really bored because no one's there. A few of us are in the kitchen, and one girl (we'll call her "Platinum Tiki" to hide her true identity) was holding one of those really thin long birthday candles. A guest had left a pack of them from the night before, only this one was bent in a few places.
Now, I don't know why the hell I did this.
"Hey, P.T." I said. "I bet I can light that candle from the middle." And I pulled out my lighter.
"Okay." Said P.T., and she gave me the candle.
I was, in fact, able to light it from the middle. However, the wax started dripping on my finger and burned, so Platinum took the candle back from me. The flame grew bigger, and we giggled, and then I realized where she was holding it.
"Hey, P.T." I said, "You better move that over to the sink and away from the trash can."
Either she wasn't paying attention, or Platinum was in shock from how high the flame was growing in her hand. She just stood there holding the candle over the receipt-filled trash can, gigling uncontrollably.
"W-w-what?" She laughed.
"Move the candle." I laughed back. Of course, I must've been in shock, too. I wasn't doing anything, either.
"What do you mean?" P.T. giggled.
"Fire, paper-- bad!" I said. I was kind of worried, now. Some of the other people in the kitchen were watching us, now.
Then it happened. Part of the long candle, the part with the flame on it, fell right into the trash can. The top was hidden by a hole in the counter, but a nice orange glow was eminating from it.
"Oh, good god damn, Plat!" I said. I looked around for a container.
"Oh my god!" She said. We both stopped laughing for a moment.
"The trash can's on fire!" I said, as I have a knack for stating the obvious. The first container I saw was a cappuccino cup. I filled it with water from the sink next to me, pulled out the trash can, and dumped the water in. It put the fire out, but there were still some glowing papers, so I dumped one more cup-full in. That did it.
Someone was smart enough to suggest that I take out that trash bag and replace it. Not even considering evidence at the time, I thout that was a great idea, and did it, immediately. Our expeditor came into the kitchen and asked what the smell was. One of the waitresses (we'll call her "Funniest Woman Ever") told him that P.T. and I had set the trash can on fire, and said it had been the best part of her day. I made a joke about having repressed anger with the Scottish Place.
"Repressed?" Funniest asked. "I'd say that was anger busting right out."
After I came in from taking out the trash, P.T. and I glanced at each other and just laughed. What else could we do?
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