I recently picked on the firemen for standing behind the doggie gate and waiting while I dealt with the vicious, biting dog. I think they did that because they had thick pants, thick gloves and helmets, while I had pretty-boy leather and nylon gloves. Pretty-boy gloves are much better for angry dogs.
Now they are able to talk about me.
I was sitting at the Quickmart filling my cup of ice with a coffee drink the other day when I saw a car run into another and flip over. I figured I ought to go see what was going on, so I called it in and went on over. With the help of some Air Force guy, I helped the girl in the flipped over car get out, then I went over to the other car.
A lady was sitting inside and couldn't open the door to get out. I tried the door and it didn't open, so I told her the firemen would be there soon.
When the firemen arrived, they deployed with their big old halligan tool, an enormous battle axe and everything short of the Jaws of Life. One of the firemen went to the door, tried the handle and then gave it a little tug and it popped right open.
I was a bit embarrassed.
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