At 6:15 am this morning, I woke up to a faint beeping noise and a woman's voice muttering something that I couldn't hear. I was like, "What? Is that the Instant Pot?" I dismissed it, because for some reason I decided it was an audiobook and the Instant Pot. Of course, that was the weirdest assumption ever, but I was still have asleep when I thought about it, so I don't blame myself.
The talking didn't matter much to me, but the beeping was beginning to get annoying. It was like:
Beeep.
Beeep.
Beeep.
I asked into the darkness if anyone was going to fix the beeping so I could sleep in. Mom came out and said it was the smoke detector, and that got me worried. What if there was a fire? Dad came out and seemed annoyed, and that was when we heard this noise that sounded like, SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!
"Fire. True. Fire, true. Fire, true."
At least, that's what I thought it was saying. I found out later on that it was French, because I assume Mom had been slapping it so hard that it just decided to not speak English anymore. And I know for a fact that she was slapping the smoke alarm, because when I got downstairs, that what what she was doing.
What I saw was an angry woman standing on a wooden chair, slapping a red flashing smoke alarm that was saying, "Fighter, foo. Slap me to get me to shut up," in this weird English accent, and then she was slapping it as hard as she could, but the screeching just got louder. Eventually, Mom just ripped the entire one out of the ceiling. Like, the wires are hanging out from the ceiling now.
The accent sounded vaguely like one of the women from Downton Abbey, and she was still talking even when the honking smoke alarm had been ripped out of the ceiling. We just took the batteries out and left the alarm in the basement so that we wouldn't have Maggie Smith babbling about nonexistent housefires in the future.
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