The Great Static Catastrophe

Mildred, a woman whose internal alarm system was set to "nuclear winter" for even the slightest inconvenience, was having a perfectly unremarkable Tuesday. That is, until she reached for the supermarket trolley. The moment her fingers brushed the metal, a tiny, almost imperceptible static shock zinged through her.

Now, for most people, this would elicit a quick "oof" or maybe a "blimey." For Mildred, it was a full-blown existential crisis. Her eyes widened to saucers, she let out a shriek that could curdle milk from three aisles over, and promptly recoiled as if she'd just wrestled a lightning bolt. Her arms flailed, her legs buckled, and she collapsed dramatically onto the floor beside a display of artisanal cheeses, knocking over a pyramid of organic kale in the process.

"I've been ELECTROCUTED!" she wailed, her voice echoing through the chilled produce section. "My life... flashing before my eyes! Was that the moment I forgot to re-pot my petunias? Oh, the humanity!"

A concerned teenager, who had merely witnessed a woman slightly jolt, gently offered, "Uh, ma'am, I think it was just static."

Mildred, still sprawled amongst the scattered kale and whispering about her forgotten petunias, shot him a withering glare. "Just static? Young man, I felt the very fabric of my existence unravel! My hair stood on end! I think I saw a glimpse of the afterlife – and it involved a very judgmental squirrel! This is no 'just static,' this is a full-scale assault on my nervous system!"

The teenager, wisely deciding not to argue with someone who believed a squirrel was a harbinger of the great beyond, slowly backed away. Mildred, after several more minutes of dramatic groaning and self-diagnosis of "neurological disruption," eventually gathered herself, leaving behind a bewildered store manager and a rather flattened display of kale, but miraculously, not a single hair out of place. Except, perhaps, for the ones that had "stood on end."