Beth 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. Beth sent me into Star Market to pick up some milk
yesterday and I bought a superball in the checkout line--50 cents. What a
bargain! It tickled my fancy--still does. That thing bounces soooooo high, and
it has provided me with hours of entertainment. It just doesn't get any better
than that, now does it?)
I'm so easily distracted. That dang superball is
so much fun. So what were we talking about? Oh yeah, I bought something really
cool at Larry's Pistol and Pawn last Saturday. The occasion was our 22nd
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 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. 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
Yipeeeeee . . . I'm easily amused, just fyi, but I have yet to
explain to Beth what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave . . . ruuuu
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 Molly looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Molly), and thinking
that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must
admit I thought about zapping Molly for a fraction of a second and thought
better of it. She is such a sweet doggy, after all. But, if I was going to
give this thing to Beth 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 boody
way!" Bloody way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
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, Molly looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it
daddy," 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
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. Molly
was standing over me making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, licking
my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again daddy, 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/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. +/- an ounce/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. They
make a clanging sound, and were last seen hanging from Beth's rearview mirror.
Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.
NOTE TO MEN: DO NOT buy
your wife a Tazer gun. Beth's is broke now and it may be awhile before I get
around to fixing the damn thing.
NOTE TO WOMEN: Buy lots of batteries . .
. think of the possibilities.
This message is provided to you as a public
service to illustrate that stupid should hurt, and most assuredly always does in
my case. Have a nice day!