Thor

It went down like this. I am jamming away to Freebird when a petition directing me to sell my drums is flashed in front of my face. It appears that the gophers living underneath my house don't like me beating my drums. I looked at the gophers, Thor... and said "Thor is the manager," handed him the flame thrower.

The rest took place in about the same instant. I turned back to the drums and hit one note; realized what I just did; noticed a bright orange flash reflecting off the TV; spun around and took off after Thor; grabbing fire extinguisher after fire extinguisher; discharging them as I pursued Thor, who was in the process of chasing the upset, flaming, alleged tenants outside.

We all got outside where the local fire chief met us. He looked at me and asked if I needed any help. (After all, he has dealt with Thor's shenanigans many times and we were all on a first name basis).

I looked into my house and saw nothing but white powder, the only thing smoking was the remains of the washer machine wires. The circuit breaker did its thing and shut off the power. I looked at the fire chief just as he made eye contact with the flame thrower in Thor's hand. The chief grabbed the flame thrower and left mumbling something unintelligible. I locked up and went to bed.