Ok, I admit it, at one point just out of college I was forced to move back in with my mom. Trust me, there's nothing quite as conductive to a grown man's social life as, "let's go to my place... my mom works nights!" Ah, lonely times indeed.

There was definitely a learn curve involved. Take the time I set the oven on fire...

My mom cooks about three things really well, once, maybe twice a year, and the rest of the time does takeout and microwave food. I had learned in college that ingredients were cheaper than pizza, and was actually cooking, if only a bit. So, trying to be the good roommate in addition to the prodigal son, one Friday I decided to cook us dinner. I set the oven on preheat and commenced to fixin'.

It took a bit, but after awhile I noticed this, well, burning smell, like smouldering newspapers. A bit of sniffing tracked it to the oven, wherein I found the culprit... old pizza boxes. A big ol' stack of 'em too. Merrily smoking away in the oven like a bum with a cheap cigar.

"Well of course I put them in the oven... it was the only place they'd fit!" was the only answer I got.

So that's why mom will never have a gun:

A 22-year-old woman was wounded when a handgun that had been hidden inside an oven discharged when she opened the door, police said.

And neither should yours! :)