How do you spell danger to himself and toddlers? With a nest of hornets, a propane grill, and a moronic uncle.
So I was going to make my niece, Olivia, hot dogs for lunch today. I go outside and look at the grill to see if there's any gas still in the tank. I turn on the gas and try to ignite the thing with the switch ignition, but it doesn't work. So I open the grill to plan my next step and find a huge hornet's nest and a bunch of pissed off hornets. These geniuses had constructed their nest right at the lid hinge, so when I opened it, it tore their nest in half. They're livid and they know who to blame for the sudden bisection of their kingdom - the giant dick in his underwear carrying a plate of hot dogs. I slam the lid back down and run. Somehow I make it back inside with the hot dogs intact. . .but without my dignity. It's hard to respect yourself while doing the "bees everywhere" dance in your underwear, screaming loudly and holding a plate of wieners. The other thing that I forgot was that I left the gas on. This becomes important later. See if you can guess how.
Anyway, so now I've got a problem. First, this plate of meat ain't gonna cook itself and frankly I'm tired of microwaved hot dogs. Second, my nieces are such girly girls and, as such, are deathly afraid of any kind of insect. Ants freak them out. They scream bloody murder and refuse to go into rooms because there's an ant in there. And we're not even talking fire ants. Just regular black ants. So anyway, if they knew that a colony of hornets was camped out on their deck, I don't think we would be able to get them to go outside for the rest of their childhoods. So I have to get rid of these things. Shockingly, extermination of insects and animals is not one of my strong suits. But I decide to fry these suckers anyway.
I let the little bastards settle down a little bit. You know, go back to their normal lives. . .and then, BAM! I strike. Mistake number one, Mr. Hornet - you got complacent. Terminally complacent. . . .Actually, mistake number one was probably building your nest inches from a source of fire, but still complacency did not help your cause. You just don't know when to quit, do you, Hornet? What's that? Do I expect you to abandon your home? No, Mr. Hornet, I expect you to DIE!
Long story short. I go out there, open up the lid, and toss a flaming ball of paper towel into the grill - the same grill that has been filling up with propane for the last 10 minutes as the pantsless wonder came up with his master plan. The ensuing fireball was. . . .well, breathtaking. I didn't get to see all of it since parts of me were on fire. But Olivia (observing from the safety of the house) assures me that it was unbelievable. Take that, hornets! Needless to say nobody on that deck was all that happy to be there. The hornets, those few that survived, ran for it as their home was set ablaze and their companions were left crackling on an open flame. As for me, I too had lost a few valued friends, like all the hair on my arm and the eyelashes that used to be over my left eye. They will be missed.
Please don't ever let me have kids of my own.