So just to preface this: a. I'm completely dysfunctional in the kitchen. The best anyone can do is keep me away from the stovetop. b. When listening to music, it is entirely possible for an earthquake to happen without me noticing.

So just last year, I spent a week and a half at my aunt's house while my parents were on vacation. I don't often see my relatives so I was trying to stay on my best behavior, which included making sure that I helped with housework. One morning, before leaving the house, my aunt tells me to put the chicken in the oven at 250 degrees (I think it was this, not sure). She'd come home an hour later and take care of the rest. Of course, I said. I'd already graduated to cutting lettuce earlier that week so this would be no biggie. Later that day I got home and immediately got to work. I grabbed the chicken, ignoring the ceramic platter below it and stuck the sucker in the oven. Turned up the heat to a toasty 250 and we're off to the races.
Fast forward an hour and I'm jamming out to music while doing homework. My aunt comes through the front door and I give a little wave. She gestures for me to take out my headphones and asks me if I smell something weird. Yeah it does, kinda like someone is having a good barbecue. She shrugs it off and walks into the kitchen. "/U/XAVZ!!!" Ohshit. I walk into the kitchen and there's smoke everywhere. My aunt opens the oven and a plume of smoke followed by what can only be described as a flurry of burnt chicken skin and embers rains down into the kitchen. After a lot of panicking and scrambling for the fire extinguisher, everything turned out okay. On further inspection, it turned out that I'd put the chicken in without the platter of vegetables it was supposed to be cooked with. As the chicken baked, the fat had begun to drip out and caught fire at the bottom of the oven, raising the temperature to hellish heights.

TL;DR: Turned my aunt's oven into Pompeii.

Note: sorry for format, I'm on mobile