He smelled something burning when he stepped out onto his deck that warm summer evening. Like an uninvited genie, smoke billowed over the tall cedar fence. Someone’s kitchen smoke alarm began incessantly nagging.

Baby toy fire truck sounds grew into teenage whining, then full-out adult sirens screaming their way to the rescue. Only then did he hear voices. Laughter erupted next door, overriding the cold gravely sound of ice tumbling into a metal bucket and the dull clink of glass bottles.

An unexpected evening breeze toppled the genie column of smoke. Bowing at the waist, it snaked down behind the fence. Laughter deteriorated into coughing, pierced with panicked shouts, then oddly, more laughter.

Movie theater loud now, the siren abruptly wound down with a sigh. Rumbling, the fire truck’s engine growled nearby.

An important voice called out, “Fire Department— open the gate!”

Several voices, not as one, but overriding each other like waves on the beach called back, “We’re just barbecuing!”

The kitchen smoke alarm continued wailing and the important voice repeated, “Fire Department— open the gate!  

Vanishing into the sky, the smoke genie’s eyes glittered like stars as the man next door mused, “Ahhh, summer in the city.”

Ric Hardson [Burns, OR] is just discovering the author within and enjoys contributing to the weekly Scribes Valley U-Write-It Online Contests.