So when I was 17 I worked at a vet's office where I cleaned kennels, gave food, meds, walks, etc to animals. Pretty basic sorta job. I got the job through my mother's friend, Adam. I'm not censoring his name cause **** him. Anyway, apparently their hazing ritual for new guys on the kennel team was to have one of my co-workers, a very small little woman like 5'2, 80 pounds soaking wet, to hide in a big black yard clipping bag. Then the unsuspecting fool (me) was told "Hey, we have a dead animal and I need help moving it into the freezer (Yes, the dead animals are stored in a freezer, real sad but that's another story).

So Adam comes and gets me and says "help me move this big dead dog". I'm bummed out, but I agree. We go down to pick up the trashbag with this young woman inside it and it starts moving. Adam hands me a large framing hammer and says "Hit it" my thoughts go "Ok, I know post mortem twitching is a thing. Rogue electrical signals of a nearly dead brain cause muscle spasms. Destroy the brain = stop the signals. Sucks, but it's part of the job." So I real back with the hammer about to punch a hole in this thing's skull when he and the other people in the room start shouting for me to stop. The woman rips herself out of the bag laughing and I'm mortified. I'm a fairly large fellow, 220lbs and about 6'4, I'm pretty sure I would have cracked her skull open like an egg with one strike. And I was going to hammer it at least five or six times.