Nettles!
I was small. Probably about six, but possibly younger.

My Mum was buying a second-hand car from an odd little yard off by the bypass. The man running the place had two kids about my age, running around, playing amongst the weeds. I was sent off to play with them whilst the grown-ups did the boring paperwork stuff.

The two kids motion me over to a certain patch of weeds. There, standing proud, was a nettle, completely brown and dried out, looking utterly dead.

One kid says "They don't sting when they're dead like that. I dare you to grab it!"

So I did. Very little of this memory remains with me, some good sixteen years on. I remember the crackling of the bone dry leaves in my little hand. I remember the smile of triumph on my little face. I remember the equally triumphant smiles of the two boys as the pain ripped through my hand, violently electric, horrific and overwhelming.

And, of course, I remember running to my Mum, streaming tears and snot, holding my wounded hand out to be tended to.

Nettles DO sting when they're dead!
(Musuko, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:56, Reply)