Fireball
While tinkering with an RC car when I was about 12 or so, I was in my bedroom cleaning adhesive residue off something or other by rubbing it with a WD40 soaked rag. Having done that, I thought it might be fun to light the rag and wave it around a bit before blowing it out*.

Whump! It was such a fireball that I dropped it instantly out of shock and burned fingers, and started stamping on it frantically to put it out.

It wasn't working, but I could think if nothing else at the time. It took what seemed like hours to put it out, and when I did I could hear my mum shouting as she came up the stairs, "What are you doing up there?". I shoved the rag under my bed**, picked up my guitar and shouted back "headbanging!", just as she came through the door.

That's when I noticed that a hole the size of a dinner plate was missing/melted from my carpet, showing the floorboards underneath. "Well, stop it, it's too bloody loud" she says as I casually shuffle over to a position between her and the burnt patch, and she leaves.

I covered it with a rug, and when she found it about a month or so later I manged to convince her I'd spilt etching chemicals (I used to mess around with electronics and etch circuitboards).

Phew!

* Yes, yes, I know. That's why the story's here.
** This story could have been worse, but the rag was, luckily, as out as it seemed.
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Thu 27 Dec 2007, 10:57, Reply)