If God had wanted me to fix things he would have given me electricity-blasted hair

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If God had intended that I fix things, such as wiring, he would have given me frizzy, electricity-blasted hair.

But my hair is straight. It curls a little when I let it grow, which means I have the desire but lack the competence to fix anything that requires more than a clonging with a hammer.

Still, I try. Recently I’ve been on a kick to get some of the jobs done around the house I’ve been putting off for years. I knew it would be trouble if I tried to do this work myself. I knew I would need people with caulk in their veins.

But when the kitchen fluorescent lights went belly up, I was certain I could fix them – all by myself.

Isn’t that how all horror movies begin? With an innocent, well-intended assumption that goes terribly, terribly wrong?

That thought never entered my mind as I flipped the switch and the lights sputtered. It’s just the tubes, I told myself. They’ve burned out. I replaced them at $2.99 plus tax apiece, nearly falling off the cat-shredded chair and performing a nifty mid-air ballet maneuver as one evil tube spring from its socket and headed for the floor.

The lights still didn’t work.

All right, I thought. It must be the switch. I went to the hardware store and bought one of those fancy illuminated switches. No more fumbling in the dark. I congratulated myself. I am uptown.

I know what you’re thinking. But I didn’t forget to shut off the circuit breaker. I removed the old switch, pulling off a chunk of paint-attached Sheetrock with it. The wiring scheme looked simple enough. I rigged up the new switch and mounted it.

The lights STILL didn’t work. That’s when Dad told me about something called a “ballast,” which could burn out and would need replacing by somebody with copper wire in their veins. Fine, I thought. I’ll call the electrician on Monday.

Then I discovered NONE of the other lights in the kitchen would work either. At first, I couldn’t believe it. I kept flipping the switches, hoping I would awaken from what was fast becoming a nightmare. But they remained dark, and I tell you it was an accusing dark. I called Dad. I could sense his shaking his head in dismay. All he said was, “I’ll come over.”

He gazed in bafflement at the circuit breaker box. He tested the old switch. He scratched his head a lot, I thought. This is not good. Upstairs, the smoke alarm began to beep. I thought, Oh my God, this is REALLY not good. I asked, “Could it have anything to do with that switch I put in today?”

Dad looked at it. “What the heck is this?” he blurted, half puzzled, half amazed.

I’d connected what I thought was the ground wire to the ground post. Turns out it wasn’t the ground wire. It was the wire that supplied current to all the other lights.

“You mean that wire’s not supposed to go there?” I asked innocently. “No,” he answered, the implied You knucklehead hanging thickly in the air.

Minutes later, the lights worked, and the smoke alarm had stopped beeping (we’d accidentally shut off its power). But the big lights still wouldn’t work. The copper-veined one would fix that. Dad made me promise. …

Now I’m thinking the place could use a ceiling fan. There’s a place for one in the living room. I think I could put it in. I’ve got a hammer.

The horror. The horror.

This column was published in the Wednesday, December 18, 1996 edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .