So there I was, kicking back on the couch, sipping on a wine cooler single-malt Scotch, and reading a book, when Homer runs to the back door and starts going apeshit. Now, if you know dogs at all, you know that apeshitty behavior, though random, is not an uncommon occurrence.

So I ignored him.

Five minutes later, though, there was a vigorous, insistent knock at my front door.

I looked at my clock. 9:35 pm. WTF? Kelly was at a volleyball game, and no one was coming over, so who the hell could it be?

I peeked out the window and saw an 18-year-old kid. He looked harmless enough, so I opened the door:

Me: ‘sup?

Kid: Nothin’

Me: You gellin'?

Kid: STFU

Me: True.

Kid: There’s a fire behind your house.

Me: Tight shit, yo.

And then I punched him in the neck.

So I raced to the backyard fence, and, sure enough, there was a fire blazing behind my house. Beyond our fence sits a big, undeveloped grassy field. The grass is dry – very dry – so I wasn’t completely shocked that it was ablaze, it being the peak of fire season and what not.

I grabbed my ladder, unspooled the garden house, and donned my pithhelmut to attack the blaze. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten everything all set up that it dawned on me: my firefighting would be much more effective if I opened up the back gate and took the hose out into the field, rather than spraying wildly from a ladder in my back yard.

So I ran back into the garage to get the gate key. Just as I finished opening the gate, a Sac Metro fireman came through my front gate to save the day.

I’ll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that Sac Metro, Roseville FD, CDF, and whoever else was involved did their jobs supremely. They got on the scene and had the fire out quickly. There were at least two trucks in front of my house, and at least 8-10 on the road behind my house. They were there in full force, and they got the job done. Kudos.

I wish I had some live action shots or video to show you, but I was too busy first hauling my fire gear out to the front lines, and then, after the FD took over, entertaining the neighborhood teenagers who had come through our yard and congregated around my back gate. I didn’t smite them only because one of them knocked on my door and let me know that my wooden fence was in mortal danger.

And where was Troy throughout this whole ordeal? Sleeping. Dead to the world. A sonic boom 10 feet over his head couldn’t have woken him.