How Not to Cook a Hot Dog

My husband, being the free-spirited individual that I so dearly love, decided one cool winter afternoon that he wanted a hot dog. He did not want just any type of hot dog. He wanted a grilled hot dog. I personally felt his endeavor was quite preposterous considering it was mid-February and 45 degrees outside. The propane grill had not been started since the previous summer. In spite of my arguments on the issue, he was bound and determined to indulge himself with a few hot and steamy grilled hot dogs.

I have informed him over and again of the danger in igniting the propane grill using a lighter. The ignition spark had not been working properly before and instead of heading my advice, being the man he is, he ignored my cautions naturally. He went out the back door, pushed the ignite button and came back into the house. I asked him yet again, “did the grill ignite?” and he shrugged me off and told me not to worry about it. A few moments later he went back out the door with a lighter in hand. Within seconds I heard a loud “whoosh!!” and from the window in the living room I witnessed a very bright glowing light in the backyard.

The first emotion I felt was fear. I was afraid to go out and see. My heart was racing. A few seconds later and he came back into the house and ran directly to our bedroom. I yelled to him, “what happened out there?” and I could barely hear him yell back at me “my face is on fire.” The smell that trailed him down the hall was horrific, the worst thing I had ever encountered. Our children, at the time ages 9 and 7, came from their bedrooms after hearing the commotion. My son looked at me and quite calmly said “what is that smell, what is burning?” By this time I was overcome with laughter, and being the witty person that I am, I quickly responded with “your daddy.”

I forced myself to enter the master bath to get a look at what had happened. It was more than I could bare to hold my chuckles in. This, of course, was not amusing to my husband of 11 years who was hunched over the bathroom sink with the water running and a wet towel pressed firmly to his face. I asked him to let me see how bad it was and reluctantly he removed the towel. Low and behold, it wasn't bad at all! He was just missing half an eye-brow and sparse sections of his mustache and beard!

After the laughter had died down and I truly realized the severity of what had happened, but that he was perfectly ok and without any major burns, he finally submitted himself to a few giggles as well. The hot dogs continued to cook on the grill and when they were done he went to get them, but by this time his craving had subsided. The children ate the hot dogs and he cooked himself a pizza in the oven instead!