ME: I’m glad we didn’t have a chimney fire yesterday. That scared the shit out of me.
PONTILICIOUS: I knew we didn’t have one.
ME: Well it was a relief to not see flames shooting out of the chimney.
PONTILICIOUS: What the hell?
ME: That’s what happens! I grew up in an old farmhouse. We had multiple chimney fires every winter. It was like all the rage or something. The chimney was so old and cracked, that I remember flames shooting out the side – in the living room!
PONTILICIOUS: Holy shit! It must have been an old house.
ME: It was built in the early 1800s, I think. They actually moved it by oxen from one end of town to the other.
PONTILICIOUS: Like a company?
ME: No. By oxen.
PONTILICIOUS: In boxes?
ME: OMG. Really? By oxen. Those oversized bull-looking things. OXEN!
PONTILICIOUS: Oh. There were probably no moving companies back then, huh?
ME: You don’t want me to answer that.
