It was a damp summer evening, and a dense fog lay heavily around my house. Actually it was inside my house rather than around it, and the fog was actually smoke billowing out of my oven. Cooking steak indoors is a feat not easily accomplished by mortal men, but I was determined to wait it out so I could enjoy the most succulent and tasty slab of fresh-cooked meat this side of the Occoquan. Unfortunately the exhaust fan in my range hood has the airflow capacity of a clogged bendy straw.

My vision started to become obscured by the vast clouds of smoke and I had soon become engulfed to the point where I thought I might collapse at any moment. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before the smoke detector went off. In a half-conscious effort I yanked the device off the ceiling and tossed it through the window, which happened to be closed at the time. The buzzing stopped as it bounced off the glass and came to rest on the carpet.

Now I began to feel myself getting dizzy as the smoke filled my lungs, inhale after exhale, again and again. But there was no turning back now; my steak would be cooked or it would be of no use at all! Except maybe as a cold compress for the black eye I would surely receive as my unconscious face slammed into the coffee table.

Soon the haze around me was starting to give me hallucinations. I thought I saw Gary Coleman leading a band of Dwarfs through the Mines of Moria in my living room. Then I saw Spider-Man, a pair of British parliament members, and not one, but all eight Maids a’ Milking from that Christmas song. I tried to ask one of them out on a date but found out she was really my vacuum, so I turned it on and began sweeping the battlefield for mines.

Finally I decided I needed to get some fresh air into the house, but my eyes were watering so badly I missed the front door and opened my coat closet by mistake, briefly entering the land of Narnia before passing out in my snow boots. Luckily the oven timer started to buzz and I quickly awoke, tripped over Jungle King Danny DeVito who was sitting on the Throne of Tetax’huatl, and ate dirt. When I had risen to my feet, I found myself surrounded by Ewoks and had to fight them off with a spatula and an oven mitt, only narrowly escaping.

A half hour later I was planning a battle with Attila the Hun and Napoleon Bonaparte over a nice juicy steak, when my roommate came home. He opened the side door and as the haziness dissipated, the two warlords stepped outside, never to return again.