Tag Archives: fire

3594. The perfect pinecone

15 Replies

Kenneth was collecting pinecones for his open winter fire. A nearby land owner had a bit of a pine forest, and Kenneth had asked if he could collect a few pinecones. So that’s why Kenneth was out there with a sack filling it with pinecones.

The bag was full, so Kenneth headed for home. On the way out of the forest Kenneth bent down and picked up one more pinecone. It lay on the track Kenneth was taking. It was a perfect pinecone; beautifully round. Almost good enough to use for a Christmas decoration! In fact, Kenneth nearly put it aside for that purpose. He had to carry it in his hand because the bag was totally full.

Who would have known? It was the stuff of novels.

That was the very pinecone that rolled out of his open fire in winter, set fire to the house, and burnt it down.

3557. The Bread Maker

15 Replies

When Denise was being burnt to death in a house fire she was heard to call out “My bread maker! My bread maker!” There were two schools of thought as to what it might mean. Half the congregation at the funeral (although they said nothing) thought she may have been pointing out the cause of the fire. The other half of the congregation at the funeral (although they said nothing) thought she was lamenting the loss of her bread maker in the fire, despite the fire also having claimed the loss of her husband.

She loved to make her own bread apparently, although some doubted that her bread maker could have been called a bread maker. She’d had it for over fifty years. It didn’t look like a bread maker. It was worn out. Given all the ups and downs over the past many years it was a wonder the bread maker worked at all.

The mystery was solved when the grown children placed a “Thank you” in the daily paper’s obituary column:

“Thank you for the flowers, the messages, and all the support on the passing of our parents: our mother Denise, and our Dad, whom Mum always referred to as her Darling Bread Maker.”

3295. The flames of love

9 Replies

Jenny narrated to Lambert a harrowing detailed description of how her parents died in a terrible house fire. “Strike a light, they won’t be feeling the cold this winter,” he said.

“As you know, it all happened last week while you were away doing work at Bessemer City,” said Jenny. “ They haven’t determined how the fire started.”

“It’s so sad,” said Lambert, “even though they were dead against us getting married.”

“I didn’t like to phone you at Bessemer City with funeral details,” said Jenny, “because I knew how important the work there was to you. It was quite harrowing not having you at the funeral but I thought it was for the best. At least we’re free to get married now without them blocking it. On the night of the fire I don’t know how you managed to drive all the way from Bessemer City to here and back again in one night.”

3229. Are there any questions?

7 Replies

Good afternoon. I’m Police Officer Clyde Albion and I’m here to report on the fire at Croydon Manor early this morning. After I’ve made a statement you’ll be very welcome to ask questions.

It is believed that the fire at Croydon Manor started in the scullery with faulty electric wiring. The manor was well over two hundred years old and the wiring throughout was once again being updated. Whether or not the fire began with the old or the new wiring at present is unclear.

It is a great tragedy for the town. George Washington is reputed to have stayed there at least three times. It was certainly an historic homestead. With more certainty it is known that the poet Walt Whitman spent a number of vacations there being friends of the then owners. In fact if you stood in the kitchen and looked towards the open backdoor you could see lilacs in bloom. It is not known if this sparked his poem “When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d” but they’ve certainly bloomed their last now.

Yes indeed. The place stood as the oldest residence in the area, possibly in the state, and it’s a tragedy beyond words that Croydon Manor is no longer part of the town’s living history. It can’t be rebuilt. A new building would not be the place where George Washington and Walt Whitman stayed. And Neil Armstrong. Did I mention him?

The good news is this: that we need not worry about the owners, Mr and Mrs Burton and their eight children, as they all perished. Are there any question?

3132. The boundary hedge

13 Replies

I live in a quiet street in a relatively quiet village. The slower pace of life is one of the main reasons I came to live here from the big city. I live a fairly idyllic lifestyle, or rather I did until the new neighbour moved in.

Our two houses are separated by a hedge. The hedge is reasonably fast growing and I keep my side and the top trimmed. The neighbour chops his side of the hedge and throws the cuttings over the hedge onto my property. I ask him not to and he said “It’s your hedge. Consider yourself lucky that I clip the hedge at all.” He said the hedge was planted on my side of the boundary.

We share a common driveway too and he frequently parks his car on the driveway at the entrance so I can’t get to my garage. If it is grocery shopping day I have to lug the groceries all the way up the drive, making several trips. I’m sure he parks like that on purpose. I asked him not too and he said “Get a life.” These weren’t his exact words but you get the drift.

He recently started doing another annoying thing. Tuesdays is trash collection day and he puts his trash into my bin. If there’s not enough space in my bin for all his rubbish he takes some of mine out and leaves it on the side of the road. Of course it doesn’t get picked up by the garbage truck.

He’s getting more and more infuriating. Just yesterday he wasn’t home and his house caught on fire and burned to the ground. It was a terrible shame but at least I got rid of the hedge clippings.

2840.  No room

16 Replies

Christoph was a nauseating Son of a B. He boarded with a well-to-do family – Bill and Mary McHardy, their three children, and their pet labrador dog. Christoph hated the dog. He was mean to it. He used to kick it when no one was watching.

He was also mean to the three children. Bill and Mary McHardy were letting him see out the year, and then they’d hopefully tell him to find alternative accommodation.

Then the crunch came. Christoph insulted Mary and Bill overheard. Bill said nothing immediately. Mary said nothing immediately. They had other urgent things on their mind. A distraction had arisen: wild fires. The forest behind their house was aflame. They had to run for their lives. The three children crammed into the car along with their parents. Christoph also ran to the car. “Move over! Move over!” he screamed.

“No room!” said Bill. “No room!” said Mary. “No room!” chorused the three children.

“Oh! The dog!” said Bill. “There’s always room for one more.” The car screeched to a halt. The door opened. The labrador jumped in, and off they went. Thank goodness they were all saved!

2757. Is it always cold in here?

15 Replies

It was a cold winter’s morning when Hazel discovered her husband’s body lying on the carpet in front of the wood burner. Clearly he’d been stoking the fire when the Grim Reaper swept his scythe. The door to the wood burner wasn’t fastened so he must have had the door open in order to replenish the fire.

Hazel called the police. There was no use phoning for a doctor. He was as rock solid as a log of firewood.

And now the police had come and gone, the funeral had been held, and the coroner had stated that Hazel’s husband had died from a blow to the head. No, he hadn’t hit his head on the wood burner as he fell. He was hit by an unknown solid object; maybe a hammer. Detectives had searched everywhere for the murder weapon without any luck. The case was still wide open, but the officials had called around to report to Hazel that they were winding down their investigation.

“We’ve had no leads as to any murder weapon. We’ve simply reached a dead end,” said the detective kindly. “Goodness! Is it always cold in here?”

“I’m a bit loath to stoke the fire since my husband died while doing it,” said Hazel. “And unfortunately I burnt the last log the day he died.”

2746. Cat food

17 Replies

It was her own fault when Mrs Rutterkin’s house burned to the ground. That might sound harsh, but Mrs Rutterkin was one of those horrible witches like in fairy stories. She would grab children on Dukesbury Avenue where she lived, put them in a huge pot over the fire place, and boil them down for cat food. This is if she wasn’t using the cauldron for making some sort of malevolent potion. There wasn’t a lizard’s tail within miles of where she lived. Nor a frog’s tongue.

Clearly the house had caught on fire when one of the children leapt out of the cauldron and chased Mrs Rutterkin with a blazing log. The child tripped and the rest is history. But that’s not the end of this strange tale. Fortunately the child was saved, as indeed was Mrs Rutterkin. Unfortunately the child’s parents were held responsible for the conflagration. They had to pay Mrs Rutterkin huge amounts of money in compensation and the child was taken away and put in responsible foster care.

The witch has rebuilt her house. She still nabs children off the street for cat food, but her open fireplace has gone. Her hearth is now closed in – more like a pizza oven. There’s very little likelihood that a destructive fire could start. It’s also unlikely that a child would escape. The new arrangement is eco-friendly; in fact, the city council are using Mrs Rutterkin’s modernizing experience as a promotion.

“She’s straight off the news on television,” said Mrs Martin from 14 Dukesbury Avenue.

“Truth is indeed stranger than fiction,” said Mr Martin from the same address.

2734. Swings and roundabouts

19 Replies

After Anika had murdered her husband and his mistress she had no idea how to hide such a trail of blood. She had taken the sickle from the shed and whished it about aimlessly in the bedroom. In the dark. She had no idea what she was hitting, but hit her husband and his mistress she did. All was revealed when the light was turned on. Anika was surprised. Her husband’s mistress was her brother-in-law’s cousin.

But what a mess! Anika first dragged the brother-in-law’s cousin’s corpse out to the car and stuffed it in the back seat. She them dragged her husband’s body out to the car and dumped it on top of the other corpse. She then drove off in pursuit of some isolated patch of forest where no one ever went.

She was heading in the vague direction of the countryside when she was stopped by a cop. Did she know that one of her headlights wasn’t going? He issued a warning and didn’t even bother to notice the two bloody bodies dumped on the back seat. Anika continued her journey.

Eventually she entered a lonely forest lane. She stopped. It took her over an hour but she managed to drag the two bodies into a hollow and cover them with leaves and branches. She returned home and cleaned up the mess. Two days later Anika briefly returned to the forest.

A little while after this a terrible happening came on the radio. A fire was destroying a large section of forest. Two bodies had been found. Anika went to the police and said she thought one of them could perhaps be her missing husband. Dental records proved that to be the case. These days Anika is happily married to her brother-in-law’s cousin’s widower.