The Rotating Blades of Misfortune
Fun Fact o'the Day: When a box fan operating at its highest setting (three) tumbles out of a window, something bad is about to go down. Depending on where your outlet is, the fan may plummet with enough force to disengage itself from its power source, assuming your cord is short enough, and is at a higher elevation than the fan itself. However, if these conditions are not met, prepare to be bombarded with enough razor-sharp plastic shrapnel to thoroughly spoil your day. Such was the fate of a certain box fan that I used to know.
One sweltering afternoon, a strong, vengeful wind cast the box fan out of the window, catching the usually stable contraption by surprise. But the fan courageously decided to carry on, never ceasing to circulate air even on its decent to the ground. This proved to be an ill-advised move by the cocky box fan, for no sooner had it reached the floor when the awkwardness of its landing forced its own protective cage into its inner rotating blades. My stomach churned. The blades splintered violently against the sturdy plastic enclosure as I watched in horror. Horror that was getting ever warmer with the lack of air circulation. As it began to vibrate uncontrollably on the floor, I realized that the box fan wasn't going to stop. With every passing second it was drawing nearer total self-annihilation. It would rather kill itself than return to its post unable to perform. I tore its power cord from the socket, and let the fan settle down. After a few seconds, the extent of the damage became clear. One entire blade was gone. The protective cage, now hanging loose on one side, repeatedly struck the frame as the crippled blade tried to rotate normally. This resulted in frequent, embarrassing spasms stemming from the blade imbalance.
The fan would scream at me from time to time. "You shoulda let me die... did I ask you to help me?... Answer me!... I was supposed to die there... but you, you piece of shit!... now look at me... You look at me!... I'm a freak! (sobs) No one can love me like this. Hell, you can't even look at me. People can't love a fan anyway, but still... I can't circulate air... What good is a Goddamn box fan, if it can't do the one thing it was produced to do?! (more sobbing) That's it. I've had enough of this fucking charade."
And with that, the box fan leapt from the window and impaled itself upon a broomstick.
posted by Arthur Croft Yates @ 2:56 PM
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