Thursday, August 24, 2017

Ouch!

Dear Friends,



My wife Renee is fond of saying that my last words on

this earth will be something akin to, "hey y'all, hold

my beer and remote, 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). I bought something really cool for Renee. 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 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

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 arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!!

Yipeeeeee . . I'm easily amused, just for your

information, but I have yet to explain to Renee 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 cat

Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the

directions (that would be me, not Gracie) and thinking that I really

needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood 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 kitty, after all. But, if I was

going to give this thing to Renee 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 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 wide, pretty cute really, andloaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-a 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'msitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head

cocked to one side as if 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 better than 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. Gracie was standing over

me making meowing 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.