Sparks Flew

I took off my jacket this morning and heard the familiar crackle of static electricity being transferred into my body. That's the second most ominous sound after a shotgun being pumped. So very suddenly, I was playing a game of Operation at my desk. I was the tweezers and every metal object in my vicinity was the sides. And I'm horrible at Operation.

The problem with the static charge is that I'm always torn on what to do. Do I man up and fist pump the metal drawer to discharge the shock and get it over with? Or do I forget about it for a few minutes until I accidentally brush my cubicle wall with my forearm and smell singed* hair while screaming like a girl? Just for the record, I usually go with the second option.

But today, I got creative. I decided it's better to use that charge for good instead of evil. So I touched a dead bird and reanimated it (a la Doctor Frankenstein). Okay, not really. I really just shook hands with the annoying guy who sits at the front of my row. I timed my walk so we would meet at the corner. (Advantage #316 of being taller than average: I can see the tops of people's heads over the cubicle walls so I know when they're coming and who they are.) So since I knew the spark was coming, I was able to brace myself for it. And I gave a nice, sturdy handshake. But he didn't have a clue. So he did a little scream (more like a yelp) and jumped back. I really wish I could do what evil mutants do in the movies and make my eyes spark a little as I glared at him, but I couldn't. So I just settled for a corny joke ("Well, that was shocking!").

*I don't like the word "singed." It makes me think I misspelled "signed" or don't know the word "sung." I had to type that in a Word document just to make sure it was right.