I dragged my eyelids open and checked my phone. Four am. Red and white lights were flickering in from the windows.
Mau was pacing. And bellowing in his little cat voice. MMMMREOR!
Buckman and I both sat up. It smelled like burnt toast. Buckman looked out the window. “What the fu-heeeeeeeeeeey.”
We stumbled out to the balcony.
It wasn’t just fear that took us down the stairs to investigate. It’s our experience that the San Diego Fire Department requires a modeling portfolio to work for them.
We found them to be as attractive as we’d hoped, but I suspect they did not find us as informative as they’d hoped.
Blond Fireman – “Are you both ok?”
Valancy Jane – “I think so, but shouldn’t you carry me upstairs and make sure?”
Brunette Fireman – “Do you know what’s on fire?”
Buckman – “Have you SEEN my ass in these jeans?”
(They had already figured out that a woman on the bottom floor had fallen asleep while cooking. No damage to the building or to the woman herself.
So I don’t see any reason she can’t do it all again tomorrow night. For our sakes.)