You can't mention the "incident with the trash barrel" without providing more details!
Once upon a time, Dad was really broke and the first bill that went was the trash service. Dad's solution was to get a barrel from our redneck neighbor who also burned trash and start burning our trash.
Now, Dad really enjoyed burning trash. He also likes it when things Kaboom, so he wasn't always so careful about what shouldn't be burned. It was basically every environmentalists worst nightmare. A further complication was the location of the trash barrel. I had built up a nice backstop for a little range right along the back of the trailer. Dad (of course) used my backstop and, as is his habit, junked it up with his "targets" so I stopped using it. The trash barrel was put in the range of fire. Dad did not hesitate to shoot said trash barrel when shooting at his other junk.
All this happened back before I started putting my foot down about certain things and it went on for years.
So, picture the scene... Well, actually, if it was daylight I could have real pictures for you, since that mess is still partially there. I haven't gotten to it yet and Dad's version of "cleaning up" is pretty hit or miss. Anyway, small clearing running along the back of the trailer with a burned up, rusted and holey barrel, half filled with ash and *expletive deleted*it that didn't burn, surrounded by bits of trash and whatnot that didn't make it into the barrel. Plus, leaves, grass and forest debris.
One evening, after dark, I was sitting at my desk, surfing the web, which is right in front of the windows that look out on the charming scene depicted above, when I think "Hmmm... There is a lot more flickering light than is normal for trash burning reflecting into the trailer..."
I look out and yep, the back yard is on fire.
I start screaming "DAD!!! DAD!!!!" but there is no Dad to be found. Being a proactive type of girl, I slipped on my flip flops, grabbed the fire extinguisher that had been sitting in the back hall for years because landlady had wanted us to have one and run out in my summer pjs (shorts, people, shorts and a freeking tank top) to fight the fire.
Did I mention that there is no lighting out back? No porch light, no flood light. Just whatever came through the windows... Well, and the *expletive deleted*ing fire. It is not fun to be tripping around in flip flops and shorts on uneven ground with all sorts of crap to trip on and trying to put out a fire.
By the time Dad reappeared I had the blaze mostly out. He'd been off walking the dogs.
I handed him the spent fire extinguisher, told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to stay out there until the whole area was soaked with water, that he would never burn trash again and stormed back inside.
I love my Dad, but there are some things were his common sense goes right out the window and his inner caveman takes over. Fire is one of those things.
