I've never been fond of static electric shocks, like when you've been walking on shaggy carpet on a dry day then you touch a doorknob and feel that zap. I hate it. Apparently, to some people, static shocks are tiny sparks that practically tickle. The ones I get are their big brothers, complete with bad haircut and missing teeth, ready to beat you up for your lunch money. They singe the hairs on the backs of my hands. I've felt like I'm standing in front of some tiny dark Jedi who hurls bolts of lightning at me.
To counteract this, I've developed a habit of touching every metal object I can find. And I mean everything - doorframes, filing cabinets, cubicle divider joins and that metal plate in that one guy's head. By doing this, I seem to have stemmed the constant onslaught of electricity that flows my way.
Mokalus of Borg
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