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Description
The Slinky

Several years ago, a friend and I were hanging around in my bedroom, enjoying a regular after-school day of random acts. I was obsessed with The Slinky at the time, and, having broken many of them in some way or another, had now gotten to the point where my parents, after this event occurred, stopped buying them for me. Being at such a young age, my friend and I thought it would be enjoyable and fun if we put some of my Beanie Babies, for I was obsessed with them too, on top of my bedroom ceiling fan, then turn it on and see how fast they flew off. That was fun enough, since the bean-filled animals flew to the four corners of my room with fairly high speeds, but we needed something more. And this was where The Slinky came into play. I have no idea what went through our minds, but we decided to slide The Slinky off of one of the fan blades, and see what would happen when it flew off, since it was a completely different material. Well, we turned the fan on, and, as it grew in speed, nothing really seemed to happen; the metal spring just moved on the blade a little bit. But, and I would learn this in more detail in Eighth Grade, as the fan got faster, The Slinky started to slide down the blade, towards the center where the five blades met. There it stopped, and, slowly, it started to wrap around the center point, inside the area where the blades connected. Quickly noticing both that The Slinky was not going to fly off, and that my new toy was now twisted onto my ceiling fan, we stopped the wind-maker as fast as we could. So, with a twisted-and-hanging Slinky bobbing off my ceiling fan, it seemed that the only logical thing to do was to unreel the Slinky, because how else were you supposed to get the thing off? My friend had thought of it, so he clambered onto my bed, and carefully started to untwist the contraption, layer by layer of spiral, off of the fan…BOOM! My friend leapt off my bed, he and I shrieked at the noise. The fan had dropped a few feet, hanging several inches away from my bed by two red and blue wires. Each second passed by, and the wires were starting to stretch, which, clearly, wasn’t a good sign. BOOM! The fan dropped another few inches, and I thought it was all over from here. My dad was the only parent home, and how could I tell him that I had, idiotically may I add, tried to propel a Slinky off of my fan, resulting in the fan detaching from my ceiling? Some magnitude of punishment was a clear consequence. But, what else was there to do? So, the two of us sped downstairs, and I remember quite vividly saying, “Uh, Dad?”

“Yes, Andrew?”

“Can you come up to my bedroom for a second?”

“Why? I’m kinda busy.”

“Well…haha…y’see, we kinda tried to see what would happen if my Slinky was put on my fan, and it kinda got stuck on it, so we tried to get it off, and the fan just fell from the ceiling and it’s hanging by wires, ready to break.”

We ran upstairs, and when my father looked through my bedroom door, I heard him say, “That’s not too good.”

To my utmost luck, or maybe by a sheer miracle, I don’t have any recollection of being punished at all, the fan was fine, but, unfortunately, the Slinky was not, I don’t think I have gotten one ever since.

Description
The Slinky

Several years ago, a friend and I were hanging around in my bedroom, enjoying a regular after-school day of random acts. I was obsessed with The Slinky at the time, and, having broken many of them in some way or another, had now gotten to the point where my parents, after this event occurred, stopped buying them for me. Being at such a young age, my friend and I thought it would be enjoyable and fun if we put some of my Beanie Babies, for I was obsessed with them too, on top of my bedroom ceiling fan, then turn it on and see how fast they flew off. That was fun enough, since the bean-filled animals flew to the four corners of my room with fairly high speeds, but we needed something more. And this was where The Slinky came into play. I have no idea what went through our minds, but we decided to slide The Slinky off of one of the fan blades, and see what would happen when it flew off, since it was a completely different material. Well, we turned the fan on, and, as it grew in speed, nothing really seemed to happen; the metal spring just moved on the blade a little bit. But, and I would learn this in more detail in Eighth Grade, as the fan got faster, The Slinky started to slide down the blade, towards the center where the five blades met. There it stopped, and, slowly, it started to wrap around the center point, inside the area where the blades connected. Quickly noticing both that The Slinky was not going to fly off, and that my new toy was now twisted onto my ceiling fan, we stopped the wind-maker as fast as we could. So, with a twisted-and-hanging Slinky bobbing off my ceiling fan, it seemed that the only logical thing to do was to unreel the Slinky, because how else were you supposed to get the thing off? My friend had thought of it, so he clambered onto my bed, and carefully started to untwist the contraption, layer by layer of spiral, off of the fan…BOOM! My friend leapt off my bed, he and I shrieked at the noise. The fan had dropped a few feet, hanging several inches away from my bed by two red and blue wires. Each second passed by, and the wires were starting to stretch, which, clearly, wasn’t a good sign. BOOM! The fan dropped another few inches, and I thought it was all over from here. My dad was the only parent home, and how could I tell him that I had, idiotically may I add, tried to propel a Slinky off of my fan, resulting in the fan detaching from my ceiling? Some magnitude of punishment was a clear consequence. But, what else was there to do? So, the two of us sped downstairs, and I remember quite vividly saying, “Uh, Dad?”

“Yes, Andrew?”

“Can you come up to my bedroom for a second?”

“Why? I’m kinda busy.”

“Well…haha…y’see, we kinda tried to see what would happen if my Slinky was put on my fan, and it kinda got stuck on it, so we tried to get it off, and the fan just fell from the ceiling and it’s hanging by wires, ready to break.”

We ran upstairs, and when my father looked through my bedroom door, I heard him say, “That’s not too good.”

To my utmost luck, or maybe by a sheer miracle, I don’t have any recollection of being punished at all, the fan was fine, but, unfortunately, the Slinky was not, I don’t think I have gotten one ever since.