Hey folks this is long but, funny. I tried to edit out all the dirty words. Please no one try this!!
Dear 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 s***!" Well, I
have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story
chronicled on the History Channel 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 with a clip. For those
of you who are not familiar with this household security 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 basic 250 lb.
tattooed sociopath 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 (I'm an techno-geek...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, and unchained electrons are just a
whole bunch of fun. 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 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 little bitty AAA 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 doin' the readin',
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 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, 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 h*** 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 S***!
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 eight or nine times. 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, "That was fun! 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 your 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-B*** 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.
Dear 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 s***!" Well, I
have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story
chronicled on the History Channel 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 with a clip. For those
of you who are not familiar with this household security 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 basic 250 lb.
tattooed sociopath 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 (I'm an techno-geek...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, and unchained electrons are just a
whole bunch of fun. 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 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 little bitty AAA 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 doin' the readin',
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 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, 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 h*** 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 S***!
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 eight or nine times. 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, "That was fun! 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 your 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-B*** 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.
