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A friend sent this to me. I was laughing so hard I was crying.
Dear Friends,
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 Life Time movie in the near future. Here
goes.
Last weekend I spied something at the Pawn 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 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. 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 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 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 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, my dog looking on intently (trusting little soul),
reading the directions (that would be me, not the dog) 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 dog for a fraction of a second and
thought
better of it. She is such a sweet pup, 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 tome 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 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 dog 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 *********! DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!!
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 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 dislodge 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, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome
if
I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.
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