Non hunting story, just for smiles.

[Chunky]

Hum, I tried to post this earlier, but I guess it didn't take....anyway

I was transfering some pics and stories earlier in the week, looking for something and I thought...it is the off season and things are kind of slow, maybe I should post up a couple of stories just for the fun of it.

I wrote this one for a little news letter we had at my work. Some of the referances are to the work place, but I think you will get the gist of it. So if you have a few minutes to kill...for your entertainment....


The Popcorn Disaster


As one internet site states: if you can’t be a good example, at least you can serve as a horrible warning. This story, written by special request of a witness, is to entertain and possibly warn you.

It starts with me coming in for an evening shift. The day shift supervisor told me that he was staying until four and that I should catch a quick break, because I would be alone for the remainder of the night. We had a little weather in the area and I would probably not leave the control room again. Besides, I have a policy of eating whenever the opportunity arises, but most of you probably already knew that.

I had stopped for a hamburger on the way to work so I wasn’t real hungry. As I stood in the employee support wing sizing up my options, I got a whiff of popcorn. I find the smell of popcorn almost irresistible and the decision was made.

I can trace my love of popcorn back to my father. He also loves popcorn. Growing up I remember him making it often. Normally on the weekends, after he had fixed a car or mowed the lawn, he would go to the kitchen in the early afternoon. A ball game was either on or about to start. He would poor oil in a big pot and get it hot. Then he would put in the popcorn. You could hear him shaking the pot across coils of the burner through the whole house. I associate the violent sound of this exercise and the smell together with the treat. My father would then pour the popped corn into an even larger receptacle and repeat the process. The popcorn my father made was far superior to all others.

I remember one incident that begs repeating here. My father was in the big recliner with a ball game on and the turkey-roasting pan filled with popcorn. His dog Scruffy, although he would never admit it, was between him and the TV. I don’t remember this dog being especially prone to begging and my father was definitely not in the habit of feeding dogs in the living room, but this time it happened. The dog raised up and my father flipped him a piece of popcorn. The dog jumped for it. Not being accustomed or practiced to receive these treats, his aim was off. The popcorn bounced off his black wet nose, arced gracefully through the air, and landed back in the turkey pan. My father had a look of amazement on his face. He was loath to eat a dog snot covered piece, and yet it was impossible to find “the one” amongst the million or so others. I of course was laughing so hard I was about to fall off the couch. He eventually went ahead with the eating of the popcorn. His hate to waste something overriding his hate of dog germs. I would have at least thrown away a handful and tried to convince myself that I must have gotten the right one.


I should take a minute to explain here that for me to be able to smell the popcorn, it had to be pretty strong. I am allergic to almost every kind of plant pollen, mold, dust mites, and many other kinds of things. I took allergy shots for years. The result of my allergies, besides a dozen miserable days a year and spending as much money on Benadryl as I do on the kids, is that I have almost no sense of smell. This can be both a blessing and a curse. I am almost never bothered by irritating smells either chemical or biological. On the other hand, I can finish a glass of milk before hearing someone say, “Hey, don’t drink the milk, it’s spoiled.”


Okay, back to the story: I have thirty minutes to snack and have decided that it must be popcorn. I put the popcorn bag in the microwave and set the time for three minutes. I walked around to the back side of the closest table and saw a sports section. I started reading something while I waited for the popcorn to pop and the microwave to ding or shut off.

The next thing I know, a little tendril of smoke passes like a snake across the paper. I quickly looked up, as smoke in the center is very uncommon these days. The microwave is engulfed in smoke. You would think those things are kind of air tight, but no. It was belching smoke out of at least a dozen different places. Most people would have smelled it burning before this, but like I said, I have a very limited sense of smell.

I rushed over to the scene of the disaster. I could bearly make out the time on the microwave. It said twenty-two something, I think. Apparently I had inadverently hit one extra zero when I set the time. I yanked the door of the microwave open. The suction of this pulled a great cloud of rancid smoke into the room. It also sent some oxygen in to the microwave. As I reached in to pull the bag out, it started to flame. This made me hesitate for a moment, as grabbing burning things has never left a positive impression on me.

It was about this time that I had to take a breath. I was standing in a cloud of burnt popcorn smoke, but had no choice. It burned and tasted awful. It made me cough and gag. I heard someone else coughing from the reading room, obviously from the smoke that had gotten that far. I saw some people coughing and gagging on the smoking deck, but of course, could not be sure if it was from the popcorn or not.

You may be asking why I took the few seconds to look away from the microwave at this critical time. Well, I have a deep concern for my fellow employees and was worried about their health, and having been in similar circumstances before, wanted to know who could rat me out if I burned down the whole center.

I realized that the situation was not getting any better and I started to worry that at any second the sprinklers would come on. I had to do something, so I reached in to the oven again and grabbed the bag. Holding my breath, I rushed around the corner. It might have been better to go for the outside door, but I think because it was on fire my natural instinct was to head for water, into the restroom. Also because there were witnesses outside the door. As I moved with the bag, the air fanned the flames that had grown quite large at this time. I wanted to drop the bag and stomp on it, but knew this would cause damage to the floor and may set the carpet to blaze with a grease fire as well. Love that butter flavoring. I turned the corner and saw the water fountain. I was being burned and here was water, so I dropped the flaming bag.

Everyone in the center knows that those water fountains have never worked right, and this day was no exception. I stood there hopping back and forth, foot to foot, waving my burnt hands in front of the sensors trying to get the damn thing to spit out at least a little water. I am glad there were no witnesses at this point, as I am sure I looked like some big, smoking, dancing bear from the circus. Of course, the fountain would not cooperate and I promised to come back and kick it later. Assuming I didn’t die in the fire or get arrested for destroying government property.

I scooped up what was left of the bag, which was not much, and headed for the restroom. I saw a couple of smoldering unpopped kernels drop to the carpet and prayed that they wouldn’t ignite. That just goes to prove something I always suspected, that regardless of how long you cook the stuff some of those things will NEVER pop. I kicked the door open and deposited the bag in a sink and turned on the water. I then rushed out to make sure no other fires were started. When that was done I cleaned up the mess.

I figured I had had a pretty full break and wanted to get as far away from the scene of the crime as possible so I headed back to the control room. In the control room I could smell nothing, but I could hear many people saying things like, “What’s that smell?” and “Yuck, what is that?”

I am glad, of course, that no one was harmed and as far as I could tell the only permanent damage was to the popcorn and my reputation, which is not much anyway. I do wonder about the fire system in the building, not that I am complaining.

- Mark Johnson