StrechM
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Got this one this morning.....reminds me of one of those stupid things I've done.
-------------
Friends,
My wife Toni 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). I bought
something really cool for Toni. 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 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 Toni 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 Toni 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 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, Gracie
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 k now, 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. 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 za p 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.
-------------
Friends,
My wife Toni 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). I bought
something really cool for Toni. 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 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 Toni 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 Toni 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 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, Gracie
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 k now, 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. 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 za p 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.
