OPINION: Why painting your garage door is better than roasting marshmallows

You put on old clothes, take your bucket of paint out into the backyard, spread a tarp on the cement driveway in front of the garage, and paint the door.

Your wife and the neighbors are happy.

Now, you’re going to roast marshmallows in your backyard. You find the charcoal briquettes from last year, tucked away in the back of your storage shed. The paper sack they came in is damp, not a good sign.

You fear the briquettes may have been compromised. You’re correct — the briquettes have disintegrated into a soggy black goo. Not wanting to go to the hardware store to buy a new bag, you cleverly borrow your wife’s hairdryer and blow on the black goo.

As it dries, it turns into black dust and starts migrating away. Not deterred, you try to blow the errant dust back into a usable pile.

You circle the area, blowing the dust to a center point. You do your best, but the black cloud never does coalesce into a usable fuel source.

However, unnoticed by you, the black charcoal dust has gently settled over the patio and all the patio furniture. Your wife is upset.

You drive to the store and buy a new bag of charcoal briquettes. The clerk gives you a strange look. It’s only then that you realize the black dust has settled on your face as well as everything else in the backyard, including your wife’s roses.

You drive home with the briquettes. You wash.

You stack the briquettes in your fire pit and squirt the charcoal lighter on the pile. Two squirts and the can is empty. Undeterred, you try to light the briquettes anyway. The pathetic little flame dies out in less than a minute — the coals haven’t caught.

Now your kids are as unhappy as your wife.

Off to the hardware store.

Back home, the briquettes are doused with plenty of accelerant. You toss a match into the pile. The sound of the explosion is almost as startling as the size of the conflagration. Your eyebrows are burned off; the hair on your arms is gone.

Your wife and kids are terrified.

Never mind, get out those marshmallows.

Wait, kids, we have to let the flames die down a little. No! Not yet! Great, now your marshmallows are on fire! Don’t wave it around! Blow the flame out! Don’t wave, look out!

The flaming marshmallow flies across the yard and into the doghouse. The bed of straw the dog sleeps on catches fire and quickly catches the doghouse on fire.

Alerted by the neighbors, a gigantic fire truck pulls up in front. A fire hose is deployed and raced into the backyard, destroying your wife’s tomato plants, and the fire is doused with one big squirt.

No one is happy. Especially your wife.

And that’s why painting your garage door is better than roasting marshmallows.

Editor’s note: This is the first of a series of guest columns from New Mexico humorists. The Journal is looking for other New Mexico humorists and comedians interested in submitting columns. To offer a submission, please upload it at: https://www.abqjournal.com/site/forms/online_services/letter_editor/