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I walked into the kitchen and noticed that I had left one of the oven burners on. I wasn’t worried at first because I have an electric range. But later it occurred to me that electricity had been leaking all day. The apartment, by that point, was full of it.

So I got concerned and did what all people do when they get concerned: I decided to wear a ribbon to raise awareness. I had no ribbon, but I did have an old pair of headphones, so I cut a bit of the cord and pinned a loop of it to my left breast pocket. I made up my mind that, if asked, I would say that this was to raise awareness for minding business. “You could start by minding your own.” And because conversations take time and time equals money, with my ribbon I was saying, “Save the Money.”

I smelled my wrists and detected the fragrance of 48 volts of electricity. That’s not my typical scent, but I wasn’t feeling so typical.

I went out to a party where no one asked me about my ribbon. In fact, they ignored me. I became melancholy. Some song played from a sound system and a lyric said that the night was electric and I thought, Brother, you ain’t kidding. I began to think at a different frequency; in other words, more than every so often. The song suddenly had a rimshot. Then I decided to physically vibrate every electron down to the core of my being. I disappeared then reappeared repeatedly. People began to take notice, but they pretended not to notice, thus continuing their rudeness towards my presence, which was occasional by this time. As I stormed out, I saw the swimming pool and thought about urinating in it, but I wasn’t sure in my current state whether or not I would electrocute myself.

That night, trying to sleep, I kept tossing and turning. The cries of trillions of slowly dying batteries rang in my ears. The nine-volts slipping away in smoke alarms, the AAAs living for only a day like mosquitoes in the butts of Game Boys, the wide-hipped Ds doing the heavy lifting for the boom boxes of the world.

The Earth turned slowly like the aluminum disc in the electric meter on the side of a house.

The next morning I wanted to take a shower, but I instinctively snarled at the stream of water like a vampire does a crucifix. Everything I put in my mouth had a metallic taste. Once a new set of clothing was on my skin, the static cling was uncomfortable and embarrassing. I couldn’t go to work so I called in sick.

I went to the doctor and asked if I had electricity poisoning. He said, “There’s no such thing. This is all in your mind. Everything checks out. Go home and sleep.”

“How can I sleep with all the electrons screaming in the night?”

I tried to think of a solution, but there were only intermittent thoughts in my head, then nothing, like a brownout of the mind.

Eventually I came upon the obvious solution. I only needed to ground myself. So I found a flag pole and I held onto that sucker for dear life. The electric discharge was an insignificant shock, but I walked away feeling like there was no spark left inside me.

Now I wear a new ribbon made from jumper cables to remind me not to be so careless with my appliances.