It's All Trew

As usual, the tired, dirty men came in from the field at dark, donned their bathing suits and swam in the big stock tank. When Mother yelled, 'supper is ready,' they all rushed into the bunkhouse and tracked water on the floor as they went. Watching closely, I flipped the power switch with a devilish grin.

We anticipated success, but nothing on the level we achieved. As young boys, we were astonished at their antics - jumping, yelling, cursing, falling on the slick floor and wrecking the room in mere seconds. As the prank turned catastrophe, we became scared and fled into the darkness of night where we hid in tall weeds out by the mailbox on the country road. As flashlights probed every sanctuary around the farm for hours, we feared for our lives.

The angry and electrocuted men hunted us like wild animals until bedtime. When the bunkhouse lights finally went out, Don and I sneaked into the house and used Mother for protection. Luckily, she thought the prank was funny, and we didn't get into trouble.

Our exile continued for three days until the ranch hands forgot their jolting experience. Needless to say, we didn't conduct any more electrical experiments for a long while. FC

- Delbert Trew is a freelance writer, retired rancher and supervisor of the Devil's Rope Museum in McLean, Texas. Contact him at Trew Ranch, Box A, Alanreed, TX 79002; (806) 779-3164 or by e-mail at trewblue@centramedia.net