The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

The Sulfuric Acid Dump Tank

Driving to work this afternoon I saw a sign that said “4-Kids by Kids Carnival” and my initial reaction was if I had kids, there is no way I'd send them to this carnival! I remember being a kid (although Spring might argue that I was never a kid—heck, even my Mom (if she were still alive) might argue that I was never a kid, but I digress) and had I and my friends run a carnival … shudder.

Scene: 7th grade Gifted™ science class, working on chemestry that quarter. My best friend Hoade and I are sitting in the back of the room, killing ourselves over juvenile science jokes as Ms. Absten (Abston? Abstract? Heck, it's almost twenty-five years since this scene occured) gives us the Evil Eye™.

“Fill a pool up with sulfuric acid,” said Hoade, choking back tears of laughter. “And then the mother-in-law dives in,” I said, also chocking back tears of laughter. “SPLOOSH! Yaaaaaaah!” said Hoade and the both of us would collapse on the floor, convulsing in laughter.

Okay, it wasn't great science humor, like MC Hawking'sAll my Shootings be Drivebys” but hey, we were twelve. Twelve year olds have sick humor (remind me to forget about Hoade's “Thumper The Bunny Cartoon” series). Like the time, again in 7th grade Gifted™ science class Ms. Absten actually let us work with chemicals. There we were, all at a lab station working away. I had to turn away from what I was doing to read something, and as I was looking away, Hoade dumps a test tube full of some liquid on my hand.

Remember, all year we did nothing but make sick jokes about sulfuric acid.

I screamed like a five year old girl and spazzed out trying to work the sink quickly enough to keep my hand from disolving into a puddle of melted flesh. Hoade was on the floor convulsing in laughter and managed to spit out that he dumped plain old water on my hand.

The fact that I'm still friends with him testifies that had I thought of doing that to him first, I would have.

So had my friends and I designed a carnival for other kids (and I should mention, we were in the Gifted Program™—read: social rejects from the rest of the school) we would have a great time watching all the other kids screaming and yelling from say, the Sulfuric Acid Dump Tank, the Burst the Hydrogen Filled (not helium—it's inert) Balloons Tacked to A Stone backboard with Flint Darts or the ever popular Slide of a Thousand Razor Blades (coated with Lemon Juice of course).

Which explains why we never did have a carnival for kids, designed by us kids. Our teachers knew better. And I know better.

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