"Grilled Pizza"

It was me, Richard and Steve. We were over at Steve’s house watching TV and Steve got the idea he wanted pizza. It sounded like a great idea to me. It was summer and me and Richard had been riding bikes all mornin' before taking a break to see if Steve was home. Since we were too far out in the country we couldn’t have any delivered and we didn’t have any money anyway. So Steve pulled this frozen pizza from the freezer and set it on the counter and we all stood over it studied it like it was the most amazing thing we had ever seen.

I think it was Richard who asked the question, “How ya gonna’ cook it?”

“I don’t know. Mom won’t let me use the oven by myself and she won’t be home until after 5:00.” Steve just sorta scratched his 8 year old head and studied this 14 inch frozen circle of mozzarella and pepperoni.

“I’m gonna cook it on the grill. She never said I couldn’t use the grill.” Steve grinned like he had just discovered a cure for cancer or somethin' else important like that.

I personally thought it was a bad idea but like every other bad idea I heard I didn’t speak up about it. I just liked watching to see what was gonna happen.

So, Steve pulled the grill out of the garage and stood it in the middle of the yard. He went back in the garage and fetched a 20lb. bag of charcoal. I felt the slightest twinge of caution stir inside me but ignored it. If a kid went around listening to those inner voices of caution all the time he never would have any fun. This was our fifth summer playing together and nobody had gotten killed yet. I figured the worst thing that could happen was a whipping with the belt and I got plenty of those for doin' stuff that wasn’t any fun at all.

Steve poured the whole bag of charcoal on the grill. He didn’t bother with dumping the old ashes, cleaning the rack or nothin’. We were hungry. We didn’t have time for all that nonsense grownups done taking up valuable eatin' time. Then he dowsed this big pile of coals with a liberal amount of lighter fluid. I knew Steve was a gourmet in training when I watched him lay the pizza on the grill rack, plastic wrapper and all.

The three of us were standing around this grill. Lighter fluid was dripping down the grill legs and on the grass. Steve lit a match and threw it on top. POOF! We hit the ground hard when the grill shot a fireball about 20 feet up in the air. It scared us all half to death but man, it was pretty. Kinda like standing over fireworks.

We crawled away from the blaze on our knees and elbows until we were sure we were safe from having our hair singed off before we stood back up. Flames were still shooting 10 feet in the air when Steve came out of the house with a pair of kitchen tongs, the short kind you use when sterilizing baby bottles.

“Do ya think it’s ready?” Steve shouted from the porch with a calm and serious face, acting like he never saw a burst of flames shooting about 1,000 miles an hour toward his face and eyes about two minutes earlier.

“I think so.” Richard shouted back.

We were still standing a good 20 feet away from the inferno because the heat wouldn’t let us get any closer. So Steve approached the grill with tongs in hand and attempted to get the pizza. He moved in slowly and carefully. As soon as the tongs would get within a foot of the grill he would pull back. The flames wouldn’t let him get any closer without getting burned.

At this time I realized I was the only one who knew there was no way we were eating that pizza. It’s burnt to a crisp and even if it wasn’t, Steve had cooked it in the plastic wrapper. I am the only one of the three that understood that. I knew this because Richard was now holding the tongs and approaching the huge fire mound.

Once plan A: using the tongs was abandoned plan B came into action. Plan B wasn’t going to work either but it was brilliantly creative. Plan B was taking a broom handle and pushing the grill over in the middle of the yard. The flaming grill fell over on its side and spilled red hot charcoal and pizza ashes out on the yard. A circle of fire then spread out burning the grass with the flaming grill at its center.

I laughed so hard that snot bubbles were coming out of my nose while Richard and Steve looked on in sheer horror. Richard grabbed the garden hose and gave the whole thing a good soaking. It’s about this time I decided that I needed to head back to Mamaw’s. I knew I didn’t want to be there when Steve’s mom got home and found a big circle burnt in the middle of her yard so up the road I headed on my bike. I left Richard and Steve there to figure out how they were going to cover this disaster up. The fire may not have killed them but their moms just might. I had already started fabricating my alibi in my head when I hear Steve shout, “Ain’t ya gonna stay and have some pizza?”