My wife is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will
be something akin to "Well, I have out done myself once again."
No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a Lifetime
movie in the near future. Here goes.
On my first day of
retirement, I bought something at the Police Supply Shop that
tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is
easily tickled.) I bought something really cool for my wife.
The occasion is my retirement 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! I've
seen several demonstrations for cops, but I found this handheld
one for civilians.
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 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 it.
Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud
pop!!!
Yipeeeeee... I'm easily amused, just
for your information, but I have yet to explain to her 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, her 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 the cat 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 with my reading
glasses perched delicately on the
bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in the
other. 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 AAA 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 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 ****! DAaaaaMN!!! I '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 cat was standing over me making
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 lodge 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. Miss 'em... sure would like to get 'em back.
I wonder what retirement day two will bring?
