(To keep my conscience clean, I have to put a warning for language, but it's nothing worse than we say on vent so
)A Gift for My Wife
A Pocket Taser Stun Gun... what a great gift for the wife. A guy who
purchased his lovely wife a pocket taser for their anniversary
submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that
sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary, and I was
looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came
across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized taser. The effects of
the taser were supposed to be short lived with no long-term adverse
affect on your assailant, allowing you adequate time to retreat to
safety... 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 disappointed. I learned; however, that if I pushed
the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time,
I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the
prongs. AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie
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, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently
(trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking
that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving
target. I must admit, I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction
of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat.
But, if I was 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 tank top with my reading
glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one
hand, and 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 major loss of bodily control; a
three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the
ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds
would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5"
(12.5 cm) long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference -- pretty cute
really -- loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries -- thinking
to myself, 'No possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond
description, but I'll do my best...
I'm sitting there alone, (Gracie looking on with her head cocked to
one side as to say, 'Don't do it Dipshit') reasoning that a one second
burst from such a tiny little ol' thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I
decided to give myself a one second burst just for the heck of it. So...
I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button and... HOLY
MOTHER OF GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked
me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet over
and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the
fetal position with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples
on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under
my body in the oddest position and tingling in my legs. The cat was
making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture
frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid
getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, a
word of caution... there is no such thing as a one-second burst when
you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is
dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A
three-second burst would be considered conservative.
SON-OF-A-BITCH, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!! A minute or so later (I can't
be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my
wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My
bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The
recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it
originally was. 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. I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently, I shit myself but was too numb to know for sure, and my
sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head
which I believe was coming from my hair. I'm still looking for my
nuts, and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!
