Yeah… We understand the nature of hair and the struggle of our equatorial cousins have with their nappy heads.
Sadly, we don’t care. Anymore than she cares about our struggle with frizzy, dry, electrostatically charged winterized Tesla coil heads of hair.
When I was 13, we were in the throes of a cold spell and I was stuck at one of my Dads stores to help my Aunt, who on that day was struggling with sobriety. So she was a little shaky… if ya will. The reason she was there, was because she needed the help and that store was locked into a long term lease in a Mall, that was dead as an old beaver hat. The chances of more than a few dead broke browsers shuffling thru, was nil to none.
Anyhoo… that day was no exception. I was bored out of my mind. So for whatever reason I was shuffling my feet on the carpet, doing my best to ‘shut the fuck up and get away from me’… as I had been instructed by my dear aunt.
I don’t recall the moment I chose death… . I didn’t realize that was what I had chosen. I was just ‘playing a joke’ on an old hung over woman, whose life was one pain tragedy after another.
As I shuffled around, there was a method to my madness. I had learned that the longer I shuffled, the more powerful the electrical discharge.
I shuffled up and down the empty sales floor…. Rows of new console televisions, marking each pass in longitude and latitude… growing (theoretically) more powerful with each row.
Now at this point in my research, the arc would discharge at roughly a 1/2” from the grounded conductor.
Knowing I wanted a BIGGY for my dear Aunt. I had a goal of her discharge letting go 3/4” to 1” out. So I made numerous additional passes, adding the backroom into my route.
Inevitably, the time came to download that charge into old Aunt Grumpy. She would be upset for a bit, but she and I will laugh and laugh, once she calms down.
She likes to read, and sometimes her head got heavy and she would put her head down on the desk.
This was one of those times. Perfect!
I wafted into position, my right index finger extended… slowly descending to an exposed patch of skin on that tender meat on the back of the neck… where her hair would cover when she sat up… leaving a very pale, thin skin.
My finger, steadily descending, the target will discharge its energy stores at roughly an altitude of between 3/4” - 1”.
Now falling below 3” !!!CRACK!!!.
Oh my GOD! I just electrocuted Aunt Irene. Jesus! She sure can stand up fast… what IS that?
OMG ! It’s her face! She seems upset. WHOOOSH!!!
Run boy! She’s on the move…. .
Man… you have never seen an old alchy move like that! I think the hate is what fed an otherwise derelict system. She almost got me.
Once I bolted out the front door, she called my Dad. In the middle of the work day, with a personal problem, … caused by me.
And it was just then, that my day took a very hard left turn.
That hurt.