Physics, Vibrators and torn Chickens

I promise I will stop with the bizarre titles one day. However that day is not today.

In 2009, when my grasp on the concept of maturity was, let us say, non-existent, I went through an ordeal which would change me forever. (Then again every experience we ever go through changes the course of our destiny to a slightly different path than before, so hooray for fatalism).

It was the ninth grade. Being a fetus of fifteen years of age, I was prone to finding crass humour appealing on many levels. (Of course now, being an adult of over 23 years of age, I am still prone to finding crass humour appealing on just as many levels). There I was, stuck in a boring physics class at school. Our teacher, let us call him Mister A, was trying to explain the intricacies of wave functions and their underlying causes and the inner machinations of the mind of the universe, jumping to and fro, completely absorbed by the subject matter at hand, inspiration emanating from his very being.

Except he was not. He was actually droning on about making water waves in a ripple tank.

…with a ‘vibrator.’

Initiate the snickering from teenage me. Mister A ignored it and kept going on. ‘Student,’ he said, forgetting some basic rules of the English language, ‘in the ripple tank, you take a vibrator and put it in like this: up, down, up, down, up, down…’

By that point, a friend and I were very audibly engaged in a fit of laughter while the rest of the class slept on. The laughing continued (for an uncomfortably long amount of time now that I think about it) until our Mister A snapped.

‘GET OUT! JUST GET THE HELL OUT! YOU HAVE BEEN LAUGHING AND DISTURBING ME AND THE CLASS CONTINUOUSLY. DO YOU KNOW WHO THE HELL I AM?! I WILL RIP YOUR FLESH APART LIKE A CHICKEN’S!’

Yikes. The whole thing was directed at me in a booming voice and that too in the Bengali language, which can strike victims in a much harsher manner than English, believe me.

But just hold on a second there, Mister A.

Chickens? What? What kind of analogy was that? Who in their right minds rips chickens apart? Was this man a few screws too loose? Did he face some traumatic incident in his past life which involved some radioactive poultry combined with the forces of physics that led him down a tragic path to become The Dark Light™?

To this day, many a joke has been made, some stretching to the point of breaking, only to be stretched further. Mister A, I do not know what you are doing with life right now, but just hear me out for a second longer: I believe that you can find your life’s calling at the butcher’s rather than at school. It’s never too late to chase the life you were meant to live.

Chicken running from Mister A Winter Wolf
Run, chicken, run!

 

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