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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 wife something that really would show her how much I cared. The occasion is our 29th wedding anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my lovely bride.
What I came across 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 arch 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 arch of
electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so
looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of
electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . . 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 dog Woodley looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Woodley) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Woodley for a fraction of a second
and thought better of it. He is such a sweet dog, 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, Woodley looking on with his 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 a 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
**************! Daaaammmmnnnn!!! 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. The dog was standing over me barking like I had never
heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, "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-BITCH 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.
I laughed for ages at this, thought it worth sharing 
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No way! How st00pid can someone be!!! 
Fantastic story tho 
