My GF is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be
something akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!"
Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true
story chronicled in a Lifetime movie in the near future.
Here goes.
Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled
my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). I
bought something really cool for my GF . The occasion was our
anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet
girl.
What I came cross was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with
a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a
less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate
an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity
while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived,
with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you
adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your
250 lb. Tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a
slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil- neck
geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're
truly missing out--way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two
triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing! I was so disappointed.
Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I
found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an
arc between the prongs.
How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed
the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get
the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs
that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!!
Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yippee . . I'm
easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to
my wife what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it
couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-a batteries, etc., etc.
There I sat in my recliner, my cat looking on intently (trusting little
soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the cat ) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target. I must admit I thought about zapping kitty for a fraction of a
second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet kitty, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself
against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as
advertised.
Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the
time.
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading
glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one
hand, Tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst
would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was
supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a
three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the
ground like a fish out of water.
All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5"
long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and
loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a batteries) thinking to myself, "no
friggin' way!"
Friggin' way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.
Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what
followed. I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head
cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy,"
reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing
couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the
circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself one-second
burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like
hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad
decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time.
Don't ya hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY
**************!
DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the
front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on
the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in
the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found,
soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest
position. Kitty was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never
heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it
again, do it again!"
(Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note
of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap
yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged
from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if
you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs
1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.)
SON-OF-A-***** that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time
was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I
had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on
the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right
thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had
been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. give or
take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.
By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away.
I'm offering a reward. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and
handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get
'em back.