Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that
sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I
was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I
came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The
effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no
long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate
time to retreat to safety....??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it
home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing!
I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button
AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get
the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the
prongs. AWESOME!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie 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, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently
(trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh &
blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie
(for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such
a sweet cat. 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?
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, and 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 major
loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make
your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any
burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
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 possible
way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...?
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to
one side as to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one
second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all
that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck
of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . .
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD . . .
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . .
WHAT THE HELL!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked
me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet,
over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side
in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet,
both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left
arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?
The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a
picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid
getting
slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser,
one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst
when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it
is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the
floor.. A three second burst would be considered conservative?
IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that
point),
I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the
landscape.
My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.
The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it
originally
was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face
felt
like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my
sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I
believe
came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a
significant reward
for their safe return!!
P.S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!
'If you think education is difficult, try being stupid.'
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