When I was in the eight grade I was staying the night with a friend that lived on a dairy farm and like all rowdy kids that age we were up late playing WWE. Now we didn’t actually have WWE back then, it was called Mid-South Wrestling, he was Junk Yard Dog and I was Hack Saw Dugan.
Now Hack Saw Dugan always carried a two-by-four but there wasn’t one in the house so as I got carried away in the moment I grabbed the closest thing I could find, a cattle prod. I guess we were making to much noise and his mother got up to check on us.
Now having her son cornered with a cattle prod must not have gone over to well because that’s when everything turned to slow motion. I turned to take a look at the foot steps that I heard and I was in the process of being body tackled by a 45 year old woman in a night gown and curlers screaming “N-O-O-O-O-O-O!” That woman ran me over like a Mack Truck and never hit the breaks. I was thinking “WOW! His whole family is into wrestling. How cool is that?”
As she got up and stood over my lifeless body, which was lying across a broken coffee table, she picked up the cattle prod, sat down on the couch and made the sign of the cross. Then comes the 45 minute lecture.
Now I’m not a 100% sure I wouldn’t have zapped him in the heat of battle but it sure was educational to learn what could have happened lighting up a kid that had a pace maker. She must have used the words “Short Circuit” two hundred times.
Now I can appreciate the situation but all I could think about was how I was going to grow up and be the next Mid-South Wrestling champion called “The Cowboy” and carry a cattle prod yelling “YEEEE-HAAAAW!” Move over Hack Saw Dugan. I’m just sayin’.