(prompt: 'sudden' 14/9/2018)

ZAP, C-R-R-R-A-C-K, KAPOW, and WHAM—it hit me, and

AAARGH is what I cried, and

SPLAT is what I did when I landed.

Logically you know it won't kill you or even actually harm you. It's the unpleasant unexpectedness of that momentary jolt - the sudden zap you can never prepare yourself for. You know this, but still, you can't touch the electric fence wire deliberately. A huge jolt reverberates through your entire body, involuntarily snapping jaws together - then, just as quickly, it's gone. Several dazed moments pass. A little tenderness tightens your jawline as a prickly sensation encompasses your scalp. But then this too passes.

Checking the status by touching the wire with a long stem of grass or weed, slowly sliding closer to the dread wire until a tickle can be felt in the fingertips - that is definitely close enough for chicken-hearts. Today an electric fence voltage tester replaces the excited anticipation and fear... AND a heap of innocent fun for bystanders.

My most upsetting electric fence story resulted from my passion for mushrooms. Uh-oh... Kanute sees what I'm writing and his shoulders start shaking. He turns his head away to hide the grin splitting his stupid face nearly in half. I shall continue, despite him!

Our dairy farm produced a large annual mushroom crop with the initial rains of Spring, followed by a healthy burst of sunshine. As always, these treasures would only be revealed to determined and intrepid seekers armed with a knife, a bucket, willing, wandering feet and the keenest, most focused mushroom eyes.

One day after morning milking, already toting a half-filled bucket, I found myself in the corner of a paddock, faced with a veritable flock of the delicious little darlings visible in the next. An electric fence separated us but I was young and agile enough to climb over. Easy peasy, I cheerfully thought, I'll simply use the fat strainer post in the corner to climb and then jump off the top. Yes but... whilst carefully clearing all my body parts over the 'bad wire', I neglected to keep an eye on the bucket on my arm. Its heavy wire handle connected to the electric wire like a fridge magnet. No jump became necessary after all. As I flew one way, my bucket went the other - and all the mushrooms I had collected so far soared every which way, like snowflakes or confetti or similar.

Strangely, new lyrics for the famous Pennies from Heaven song occur to me.

Sometimes when it rains it rains

Mushrooms from heaven

Sometimes every cloud contains

Mushrooms from heaven

You'll find your feast is falling all over town

Be sure that your mushie bucket's, not upside down

Trade them for—a package of

sunshine and flowers?

If you want the things you love,

You must have showers.

So when you hear it thunder

Don't run under a tree

Mushrooms from heaven are coming

For you and me.

The best news? These previously subterranean ground-huggers never became frequent flyers, instead ending their days as another sumptuous feast.

Who on Earth would swap this kind of excitement for the timid experience of picking them off the supermarket shelf in their neat, hygienic pre-packages?