Flaming golden feathers

The air turns black all around just as you plunge into the smoke. You did it you really did you jumped right into that fire it was raging but you just went for it and Jesus it was hotter than your great grandmother's jambalaya you didn't know that the meteor was coming but by god you and your  golden feather duster were going to clean up this fire one way or another. The heat made your eyes water but there was no tissue box this time  you had made your decision as you heard the sirens sound in the distance you began putting out the fire. Quickly and quietly you moved down the street saving many quails healing their aliments with a light brush of your duster the quirkier quails seemed puzzled at the sight. The smell of a burnt syrup bottle fills the air as you approach an injured dog