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There was a guy, a TSgt, named Lyle something (I think) who was NCOIC of Maintenance Control. You remember summers in the warehouse, where even in 505's you stayed pretty wet. Lyle liked to screw with me a lot, so every once in a while he would get cute. His favorite was to sneak up behind me when I was at my desk, pull back the back of my shirt and t-shirts, and dump a bunch of staples down my back. As I said, it was wet and getting those staples off of my sweaty back was tough. He'd laugh, along with the guys in the whole branch, including Bob Spencer, the Branch NCOIC, who was usually into the prank. Well, one day I decided it was pay back time. If you remember, hard candies were available at the Commissary, but they only came in tin cans because of the humidity. Well, I took one of those empty cans and soldered a wire to the bottom and another wire to the lid. I hooked both wires up to a .05 mf. Capacitor, put black electrical tape to the top of the can to insulate it from the lid. Then I taped a note on the lid saying..."John's candy, keep your $#@%$#& off! I took the can to one of our GRC-27 transmitters and charged the lid with 850 VDC. Then I put the can in my upper left desk drawer, leaving it open just enough to read the note and allow removal of the can. I told Spencer that I had set Lyle up and wanted his help getting him to fall for it. He called Lyle and told him he had a great gag to pull on Spiry. Lyle took the bait and came strolling into the section. Bob told him that my wife, Onya, was complaining because I smoked so much that my breath stunk, He said I was supposed to eat a candy every 15 minutes to keep from being so offensive. (My God, such political correctness in the 60's no less). I was at my desk, apparently going through a computer print out, when I saw him approaching like Jaws. He strolled aimlessly through the section, entered my work center, ambled behind me, and stated "I gotcha, you son of a bitch!" About that time he grabbed the can's base with his right hand, and hit the lid with his left. ZAP!!! The can actually hit the ceiling of the warehouse, and as the Almighty would have it, dropped directly on Lyle’s head. The entire section, some 50 or 60 guys were bustin' a gut, and all Lyle could do for thirty seconds or so, was stand there with his mouth hanging open. He finally stomped off in humiliation and some degree of physical damage. About an hour went by, and finally he returned. He said, "Spiry, you damn your soul, I swore I'd never speak to you again, but I gotta know." "How did you shock me with that candy can?" Well, I had removed the label from the lid and put it on another can with candy in it and stuck it in the same drawer as the original. So I reached inside, grabbed the can, removing the lid, and offered it to him. His reaction was classic, like a man having been snake bit. He jerked back, stumbled over one of our workbench stools and as he was sprawled on my floor, I asked him, "What in God's name is the matter with you, Serge?" You have been acting weird all day, is the San Miguel finally catching up with you?." Well, I didn't tell him how I did it, never even fessed up to the gag. Would you believe the very next day he came back and dumped staples down my back? John Spiry '64-'69 |
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