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nutjob
Trad climber
San Jose, CA
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Topic Author's Original Post - Oct 17, 2007 - 02:29am PT
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In 8th grade my class took a field trip to my science teacher's ranch. She was a good teacher during 6th, 7th and 8th grade. She was enthusiastic and instilled a desire to learn; at least until puberty and rebellion caught up with us.
Now on this trip to her ranch, her horse bit me. She lectured us about the electric fence and staying away, but she didn't warn us about the horse. In fact, I think she had it in for me by then, and specifically targeted me with a little prank of her own using that damn horse. We'll save that for a different story. The heart of the matter here- and as we'll see it's the heart that matters- is an electric fence.
I'll be brief. Imagine a line of 8th-grade boys and girls holding hands- say eight or ten of them. Next to an electric fence. One might think this was a divine accident fated for me to stumble upon. In fact they stood there for a purpose that tickled all of their rebellious minds, but not one of them had the heart to explore the big WHAT IF on everyone's mind. When I happened upon this scene, with all the folks holding hands and nobody stepping up to grab the fence, I quickly grabbed the hand of the first person in line and firmly grabbed the fence with zero hesitation.
A golden second passed. I turned with a superior grin to look in triumph at the line behind me. Then the heavens parted, Thor came screaming from the clouds with magnificent and dreadful hammer raised, smashed me in the chest and knocked me on my ass. I saw a fireworks show from inside an inkwell. Somehow I recollect the line of people with arms reflexively flying up in the air, but I took the brunt of it. I don't remember if that was before, after, or during Thor's punishment. It would have been a good experiment for Kirchoff to observe when he was defining his current and voltage laws for modeling electrical circuits.
But at that particular moment I was more focused on how to torture my lungs into expanding enough to bring life-giving oxygen. There must have been a few seconds where it was touch and go, but pretty darn quickly we had an epidemic of giggling, wonder, anger, and the general chaos-filled scene that is the hallmark of a successful 8th grade prank. I don't need to remember or recount the details when the teacher came dashing onto the scene... the reward of the moment was enough to supplant whatever discipline followed :)
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John Moosie
climber
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Oct 17, 2007 - 03:21am PT
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LOL Funny story.
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Crimpergirl
Social climber
St. Looney
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Oct 17, 2007 - 08:41am PT
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Stich - you had a tiny girlfriend? :)
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steelmnkey
climber
Vision man...ya gotta have vision...
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Oct 17, 2007 - 09:33am PT
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Growing up in farm country, there were occasions when we'd be out on someone's back forty, big bonfire burning, hanging out, big group, nice times. On one of those, had a friend, Dave, who felt nature's call (and not the sushi type either!) and wandered off in the dark to take a leak. A short while later, we hear this scream and he comes running back into the light of the fire with all his business hanging out. Turned out, he'd wandered over and started whizzing on an electric fence.
Uh...ouch.
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spyork
Social climber
A prison of my own creation
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Oct 17, 2007 - 01:42pm PT
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My dad's best friend was a well known practical joker. He lived on ranch in Point Reyes. We would always head out there for cattle roundup. City kids on a big adventure.
One particular year I was given the job of dehorning. You pop the horns off of cattle and prod them along the chute. I had been using the cattle prod all day long.
As we were walking back to the ranch house, the rancher walked up behind me and zap, he hit me with the cattle prod. I jumped 4 feet in the air and let out a howl. He and my dad were laughing their asses off. His only comment was "I didnt think you would drop dead from it".
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James
climber
A tent in the redwoods
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Oct 17, 2007 - 01:56pm PT
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The Morgan family kept a dozen holsteins on their small farm down the road. My siblings and I would head over to their farm after church and play hide-and-go seek in the labyrinth of tractors, water tanks, and hay bails. When we'd tired of hiding we'd have a contest of who could get closest to the wire. The game would start with a piece of hay. Touch and go. Then a fresh blade of grass. You could feel a tingle. Finally someone would stab the thing with their finger. I only had to do it once to not want to play the game anymore. The shock knocked me down and a Vermont shape bruise marked my ass for a week.
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