Neanderpundit

There’s a history of fencing and electrification in our family, and the earliest example of this is my grandfather’s prize bull.

This big mean bastard would break out of anything, and if the SOB started feeding in Gramma’s vegetable patch, you can bet your ass that someone was gonna get an asswhipping.

Now, gramps wasn’t adverse to asswhippings, in fact he delivered them with a sort of a flair that you don’t see today- when MY father was of such an age, the asswhippings consisted of a couple of strands of barbed wire- dad’s back, all his life, looked like raw burger meat, having been flayed and healed badly over and over. By my time, it was usually the old man’s cane, a bamboo thing that hurt badly enough that you wished it were barbedwire.
No, Gramps had no problem delivering asswhippings, but I suspect he was getting his own asswhipping, figuratively, as the bull had already worked it’s way through a whole goddamned row of leaf lettuce. Gramma was pissed.

SO gramps bought a fence charger. We strung two lengths of wire, eighteen inches apart, one at the top of the existing board fence.

We tied rags onto the wire at regular intervals so the bull knew it was there. Couple times it got hit, but it was still working out a way, and we could sense it. Finally, one day, we SAW the sonofabitch life up it’s hoof, and snap first one wire then the other. And walk on through.

SO the old man got a mason jar of sorghum molasses, and soaked two ears of dried field corn in it. They soaked there a week, until the ears swelled up and the kernels were nearly popping off.

Gramps tied those ears to the wires with red shop rags, and we sit back and wait.

The bull, having just been carefully herded back into the pen, waits until we’re out of sight, and wanders up to the wire. We see it pick up a hoof to try to snap the wire, and then it spots the corn.

Now, a bull has a tongue that will put even that freak of nature Vman to shame, a couple of feet of sinuous flesh long enough to clean it’s nose or give itself a reacharound. This big bastard slips that tongue out and wraps it around that ear, and gives it a big old lick. It draws back (gramps has the charger unplugged)and smacks it’s lips, and then wraps that tongue around the ear a couple of times. Gramps turns the charger on ‘steady’ (the setting that keeps it on all the time) and the bull opens it’s eues so large you can see substantially more white than dark; then it lets go and the tongue hangs lolling out of the mouth like a big limp dick, and it says “muaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhrrrrr”

deep breath “MMOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHRRER” and kept doing that for an hour.

From that momenht on, the bull, though still mean as shit, would stop in it’s tracks and piss itself if you pulled a red rag out of your pocket.

Nice, too, because there was a nice big apple tree in the middle of that field.

Not horribly long after the time of the previous post, Dad loaned the infamous Fence Charger to one of the neighbors to help keep his sorrel mare in the corral, and the neighbor’s kid had zapped himself a time or two touching it. He was the neighborhood bully, and at five years older and a solid fifty pounds heavier, I got my ass kicked by him on a regular basis. His name was Randy. I’m not gonna disguise his name because he was a prick then, and is probably, if he hasn’t overdosed since then, a prick now. John and I were leaning on the edge of the corral watching Randy ride, (god forbid he let Us ride, or anything) and said ‘how does that wussy old electric fence keep that horse in, anyway?’ I was about to slap him and I noticed his hand. Rand couldn’t see it, but where John was pointing, you could see the charger from where we stood, and the pulse was set way out. It went six, seven seconds before it hit. Randy, always ready to make an ass out of himself, said “yeah, well touch it then” SO john did. being more coordinated than me he was able to juuust let go when the light came on. I said “what’s the big deal? John and I used to piss on this thing when it was at my house” Randy, ever the ass, said “Well, let’s see ya do it now, you fucks” So We unzipped, and let the strem cross the wires, as long as the light was off, and we were fine. Apparently Randy didn’t know the deal about the timer. “That don’t mean nothing. THe piss isn’t metal, it ain’t gonna zap you” SO he swings a leg off the horse, straddles one stirrup and the board top rail of the fence, and starts to piss. He stays on for a couple seconds and says ‘See, you turds? this ain’t AAAAAAAAAGHHH!” and keels over backwards, one foot still in the stirrup, while the horse stands still (thankfully)and he starts thrashing around on the ground, stiff teenage cock at attention, still pissing all over himself, hanging by his foot from his horse.

For reasons still unknown to me, but I suspect known to the horse, the horse starts pissing, and the stream hits randy’s thigh and splashes all over him too. John and I run home, laughing so hard we can barely stand it. Randy tries to beat our asses later but to no avail.

But if anyone of the people I’m gonna mention read this story, I’ll probably go to jail.

Around my twelfth year, I spent a lot of time hanging around with a kid named…. we’ll call him John. John was a lot like me, pretty solitary, massively curious, dangerous to be around.

Anyway, cutting to the chase, John had a sister.. we’ll call her Judy. Judy was fifteen, but she had a problem with bedwetting. She was, in all other respects, perfectly normal, but she wet the bed nearly every night. Her exhasperated parents had tried everything.
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