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 Nanci. The occasion was our 12th anniversary, and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl. What I came across was a 100,000-volt,pocket/ purse-sized Taser 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-pound tattooed assailant and 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—they are way too cool!
To make a 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. And so I did. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee!....Okay, so I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to Nanci what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Shhhh!
All right, 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 Cleo looking on intently (she's a trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Cleo), and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Cleo 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 Nanci 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 T-shirt with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser 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 than3/4 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 probably got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, Cleo 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 little 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 in 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 you hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and well, things happened. HOLY SHIT!
DaaaaayuuuuuuMN!!! 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, crying, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Cleo 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 Taser, one word 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 lodge 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 left triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 pounds, give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.
ps my wife loved the gift, and now threatens me with it regularly. If you think education is expensive, try being stupid like me!
To make a 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. And so I did. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee!....Okay, so I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to Nanci what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Shhhh!
All right, 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 Cleo looking on intently (she's a trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Cleo), and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Cleo 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 Nanci 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 T-shirt with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser 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 than3/4 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 probably got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, Cleo 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 little 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 in 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 you hate that?)
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and well, things happened. HOLY SHIT!
DaaaaayuuuuuuMN!!! 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, crying, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Cleo 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 Taser, one word 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 lodge 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 left triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 pounds, give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure.
ps my wife loved the gift, and now threatens me with it regularly. If you think education is expensive, try being stupid like me!
