Cooking with gas

[desperance]

Here's a rare event: I just went racing downstairs to the kitchen, into the rising smell of gas, and you know what? I was actually glad, when I found that I was right, that the oven had gone out and the house was filling with lethal fumes. 'Cos the reason I was racing wasn't because I'd smelled the gas, that was a happy bonus. I was racing because I wanted to intercept the dish I'd slid into the oven fifteen minutes ago, just in case I was still in time to lift all the fat off the surface; and I was, because the blessed oven had gone out. It must've known...