My sweety 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...

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 her birthday 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 stun gun with a
clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a
less-lethal weapon 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 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 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 on the face of her microwave is.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it
couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA 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 sweety 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? It seemed reasonable to me at the time.

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my glasses perched
delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser 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 dog looking on with his 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 heck of it.

(Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-- always 20-20. 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 just hate that?) I touched the prongs to my
naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY -*#&!$-!!!!

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
himself, "Do it again, do it again!"

(NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a stun-gun, 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 into your thigh like yours
truly.)

SON-OF-A-GUN 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 glasses were on the TV across the
room. How did they get there??? 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. 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, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so
myself. Miss 'em; sure would like to get 'em back.

Never Touchin' the Taser Again!