Last weekend I spied something at the pawn shop that tickled my fancy. Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled. I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion was our 18th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my sweet girl.
What I came across was a 100,000-volt Taser gun. 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 pound 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. It is way too cool!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions which I HATE to read, I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arch between the prongs. How really poor! 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. So I did it. Awesome! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!
Okay, so I was home alone with this brand 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 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. He is such a sweet pup, after all. But, if I were 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?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt 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 that is 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 possible way!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. So I'm sitting there alone, the dog looking on with his head cocked to one side as to say, "Don't do it buddy."
I'm reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny l il' 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.
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?
So I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MAN ALIVE! DAaaaaaamMN!!!
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, 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 Taser, 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, 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 pounds give or take an ounce or two.
Yup, pretty dumb. But I had to do it. Like climbing Mount Everest because it is there. Well, that's a pretty far stretch of the imagination, but you get the picture. Some things we men just have to do.
But for sure, I have done it and am never ever touchin' that Taser again!
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