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By any estimatation. It was a disaster. Wheezle Burblebeery, the next door neighbor, couldn't really be blamed for it, but was. There wasn't a law yet that said people had to be sober in their own homes but they blamed him anyway.

So what, if Johnny Axworthy set his babysitter's car on fire. Who cares that the police and ambulance were called too late to save the toy poodle that had simply wandered into harm's way from the front yard of Mr. and Mrs. Knucklewurst. It was all just a carefully orchestrated accident and Johnny should have counted his lumps and cut his losses.

Johnny couldn't do that (Johnny and his firecrackers, I mean really, his parents ought to be charged, not poor Wheezle Burblebeery, who is after all just an innocent in all of this). When his teenage babysitter Janice Sugarbottom heard the 'whump' of her ultra-sub-compact-economy-car's fuel tank ignite and once Johnny peeled himself out of the bushes all black and blue and started laughing, well, Johnny, he shouldn't have laughed. He really shouldn't have laughed.

He certainly shouldn't have kept on with that alternatively bassy/screechy prepubescent way he did...

'ha huh huh ha hi hi ha huh uh uh.'

To cut to the punchline, Janice the babysitter let go a keening wounded animal sound of fury and jumped down on top of 9 year old Johnny just as high-as-a-kite Wheezle Burblebeery burst out of his bachlor semi-d armed with a push broom and a bucket of tripe (he loved to fish)

Well, you can imagine.

Johnny was treated for:
1. Burns 2. Strangulation related injuries 3. torn ear (she'd bitten down hard)

Janice was treated for
1. split nails 2. decontamination (tripe) 3. concussion (push broom)

And poor Wheezle Burblebeery, as the only adult on the scene, clearly out of his gourd, on several class-A narcotics, well, he was arrested and charged with everything.

Even the poodlcide.