THE PHONING ANGEL

During the time I was working as a bank teller and founding the American Tarantula Society, Micki and I lived in an upstairs duplex apartment on G Street in Bellingham, Washington. One night the telephone woke me up. It was around one or two in the morning, and I was pissed! I stumbled down the hallway and picked up the receiver and all there was was a dial tone. Then I was furious! I hung up the phone with a slam and began my mad sleepy way back to the bedroom. But as I passed the thermostat on the wall, I heard a strange little pop. I stopped and looked at the gadget, and noticed a little hole where a screw was missing. Peeping into the tiny hole, I saw a yellow light, like a flame. I put my mouth up to the hole and blew a fast puff of air into it, then looked again. It was dark inside. I got a screwdriver and took off the thermostat’s cover, and was shocked to find melted insulation and charred wood! I had blown a tiny flame out that would have grown into a fire, destroying the apartment from an inner wall and trapping us in the bedroom. After shutting off the breaker switch, I went back to bed and told Micki about the miracle. I don’t know how the wiring initially started the fire, but I know who telephoned us.


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