Too many cooks spoil the chicken

Shawn and I are good cooks. He is a miracle worker when it comes to making things taste good by throwing random flavors together, and I'm not half bad at following a recipe. When we cook together, it's usually awesome.
Not last night.
I had some chicken thighs thawing on the counter that I meant to marinate, except I forgot. And we had jelly beans, freezer-burned corn, and ketchup nothing to make side dishes with. Then I had a flash of inspiration: one of my favorite flavor of wings at Buffalo Wild Wings is Parmesan Garlic, so why not season the thighs with that? I heated up some butter with garlic that Shawn brushed on the chicken before he put it on the grill, and I was going to sprinkle the parmesan when it was done.
One thing we didn't know: when it's 98 degrees in south Georgia, the grill apparently goes crazy. Shawn checked on the chicken roughly 3 minutes after putting in on the grill and reported that the flames that shot out practically singed his eyebrows off. The chicken was black and burned crispy on the outside and gushing blood slightly pink on the inside.
I had some green beans on the stove and tried to make garlic bread without using the oven (i.e, toast with some butter and sprinkled garlic on it) because it's so ridiculously hot. We put the food on the table, called the kids to dinner, and then just started crying with laughter because it looked. so. gross.

And it tasted gross too. Shawn had put the chicken in the microwave to finish cooking it, and it looked like wilted grossness it was a little overdone. We gave up after the first bite and told the kids it was a special treat: ice cream for dinner!