~zzzzoootttt~

Having a discussion with Jesse from DC who was talking about getting his mom a taser, I brought up that Poppy got mom a taser quite a few years ago and that he hates it. Scares the poop out of him that she has it. The beauty of a 52-year love affair, no?

But that brought up this story, which I'm sure most if not all of you have read before on other blogs. (I can't believe y'all are seeing other blogs, sluts.) Anywhoo, I'm posting it here because it's funny, and dammit, I need a laugh.

Dear Carl,

Last weekend I was at Larry's Pistol & Pawn looking for a little something special for my wife, Renee. I came across a 100,000-volt pocket taser. Its disabling effect on an assailant was described as short-lived, with no long-term consequences, but would allow my wife--who would never consider a gun--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 and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed, but then I read (yes, I read the instructions) that if I pressed the taser against a metal surface and pushed the button at the same time, I'd see a blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs, to verify that it was working.

Awesome!!!

I have yet to explain to Renee that new burn spot on the face of her microwave.

There 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? I sat there in my recliner, reading the directions, my cat Gracie looking on intently. Trusting little soul. I got to thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood moving target. I admit I thought about zapping Gracie for a fraction of a second. She is such a sweet cat, but if I was going to give this device 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 shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another. The directions said a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant, a two-second burst would cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control, and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. A burst longer than three seconds would be a waste of batteries.

I'm sitting there alone, with Gracie looking on, her head cocked to one side as if to say, 'Don't do it.' But I was reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst, just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and...

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!

Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up from my recliner, and body slammed us both onto 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, tingling legs, nipples on fire, and testicles nowhere to be found.

SON-OF-A... That Hurt Like HELL!

If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, you should know that there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that taser until it is dislodged from your hand by your involuntary violent thrashing about on the floor.

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was relative at that point) I collected what wits I had left, sat up, and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there? My triceps, right thigh, and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it was shot up with Novocaine. My bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. And I'm still looking for my testicles!!

I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return.

Still in shock,

Jacob