Shock Therapist

So in lieu of rant...

Along with padded weaponry I've also taken to using a collection of scrap tarps that was dumped near the school to make "tents" for the kiddies. They love it, and I get further cred for coming up with fun free activities for the munchkins without having to use any of that pesky money that we have sitting around for materials. The pesky money that only my boss...who showed up late, sick, and failed utterly to schedule more than myself and another coworker to cover for her vomit-ridden ass (OK, so there's a bit of rant) taking care of 45 kids, which is totally illegal and...

Oh yeah, tents.

So I've been making them tents. Thing is, these old tarps are very light, so thanks to the prevailing winds, one can actually use the wind to reinforce structures instead of fighting against it. But the blowing about, plus the friction of unpacking and setting them up tends to build up a massive amount of static electricity, which gets transferred to me. The kids don't touch the stuff as much, being short and all, but I get pretty juiced.

I've developed a Pavlovian response to touching anything I feel might conduct electricity.

So today I decided to set up the tents away from the metal fencing that's been jolting the fuck out of me, and set them up on the wooden portion of the fence.

But today was not only windy, it was windy and dusty like the Sahara in a hurricane. And as all us science geeks know, suspended particulates build up static in the atmosphere. Throw in the fact that it was "thunder weather" today, without thunder and lighting of course...Iceland lacks those as a rule..and there was a lot of static.

A lot of static.

Now, thanks to the buzzcuttedness of me, there were no outwardly visible signs of my carrying enough voltage to hire myself out to the Texas Department of Prisons, but being a hairy bastard, let me tell you, having your back hair stand on end is a really odd sensation.

So now I'm all charged up like Ol' Smoky on execution night, and I know, I just know I'm gonna have to discharge it at some point.

I made the most of it though.

We got this kid, not as outwardly evil as Ted Jr. but not exactly likable. He's a spoiled only child with a penchant for stealing shit from the school or other people and then beating them up, making up elaborate excuses/explanations/lies for why he did it, all the while claiming that he's being persecuted by the same kids he pushes around.

I call him Lil' Dubya.

As soon as I had the tents up, the little fucker is throwing rocks at them, filling up buckets with sand and dust to throw at the other kids, and laying claim to the largest of the tents, proudly proclaiming that no one else had better mess with "his" tent or he'll whack 'em.

I call him over, look him sternly in the eye, tell him to calm down, and put my hand on his shoulder.

I am Electro-Sma!

That kid is scared shitless of me now.