Another Shocking Tale

By Jim Hagarty
2016

I have mentioned before that I know exactly how I will die someday. The last image I see will be the big ugly face of an angry bear. I am deathly afraid of bears and they say that what we fear we attract, so I am doomed.

But I was reminded today that there may be an alternative exit waiting for me.

My neighbour asked me to come over to his house and replace a light switch. I am as qualified to do electrical work as a bear is to perform heart surgery, but I am nothing if not up for a challenge. I told him to make sure the power was off.

I showed up for the job with wire stripper in one hand and needlenose pliers in the other. I wanted to show my neighbour the awesomeness of my electrical skills.

Ten seconds into the job, the one strand of hair that is left on my head stood straight up, my eyes turned into lasers and I could see right through the wall. I also broke into song – the Ukrainian National Anthem, I believe it was.

The hydro was still on.

Oops.

Undaunted, we finally found how to turn the power off for real and I finished the job.

Funny thing though. I went to put a frozen meat pie in the oven for supper but after holding it in my hand for 30 seconds, it was done.

This is the fourth time I have electrified myself over the years. I am starting to think it’s good for me. I feel completely energized afterwards. Seems to jazz up my heart.

And I can read in bed after dark without turning on the light. So that’s a bonus.

In light of all this, this is the likely outcome: I will be electrifying myself by accident some day with more juice than I can handle when a murderous bear will break in just at that moment.

It will all make for a very interesting obit.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.