Perfect

The Shock Fight

I looked on in bemusement as Jeff and Tony shuffled across the carpeted floor of Tony's apartment in their sock feet, attempting to build up electrical charges sufficient to zap one another with static electricity.

 

It was a shock fight.

 

The combatants taunted each other as they pointed fingers dangerously rich in electric potential, two young, gaunt men, one brunette, one blonde, cackling like madmen as their friends, I among them, watched.

 

Our grins were tolerant, our sidelong glances slightly mocking. How silly, we said silently, for two grown men (ah, but how young we really were, scarce more than teenagers) to gambol about like little boys on a playground. Soon, we imagined, they would tire of this juvenile pastime and we could all re-focus on more important matters, such as the latest episode of Twin Peaks or our progress through the Wasteland on Tony's PC.

 

The shock fight rose in intensity, socked feet wearing tracks into the abused carpet, Jeff's lips twisted back in a snarl, Tony's eyes feverish with combat-lust. And then time slowed as the unthinkable happened:

 

The men closed in on one another, socks sparking invisibly, flesh tingling with tightly bound energy aching to be unleashed. Jeff's guard was down for an instant as Tony's hand rose in a graceful arc toward his foe's brutish visage. My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline as I experienced a sudden dark warning of disaster, but too late, for in that instant a bolt of miniature lightning formed an eldritch connection between the tip of Tony's outstretched index finger and the bulge of Jeff's unsuspecting right eyeball. There was a loud snap, followed by a wail of agony as Jeff clapped both hands over his quivering eye.

 

"MY EYE!" he screamed. Tony stepped back, pressing his hands over his mouth in surprised horror, his own eyes wide with shock as he realized what he'd done.

 

"Oh no!" Susan screamed, her hands, too, leaping to a mouth agape in horror.

 

"Good Lord," Ron said, chuckling, hands on hips, as Steven shook his head and sighed. Andrea merely rolled her eyes.

 

As for my hands, they went to my then-firm belly as I roared with laughter, my head tossed back in glee, lost in a fit of sadistic mirth.

 

Jeff's yelling and cursing steadily decreased in pitch and volume as the swelling went down, though hot tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. Tony, unabashed, regained some of his earlier bravado and taunted Jeff further. I cackled on the couch for a while until I was breathless, then paused to catch that breath only to lose myself in hilarity again. Jeff's pain abated long before I finished.

 

While silly and perhaps even dangerous, I'll never forget the sheer spectacle of that evening's shocking entertainment. You could even say I got a real charge out of it.

And the Spinoff, Jeff Thunder

Safety Systems Susan

One day in the summer of 1993, Jeff and Susan and I went to the air show in Namao. At one point Susan wound up in this costume; I don't remember why. A added a sepia filter and some background blur to give the photo an old-timey look. I'm not sure what safety systems Susan was checking, or if she's a qualified aircraft mechanic. 

Self Portrait, 1987

Feel the angst oozing from every pixel. Shot with Mom and Dad's Canon T70 in colour, cropped and desaturated in Photoshop. I remember feeling a lot of anxiety about having only four more years of school (i.e., university) to go. 

What's In My Fridge?