- Reaction score
- 35
- Points
- 530
Funny forward I received....
Matthew. ;D
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My wife Janet is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be
something like, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone
myself once again. Here goes.
Last weekend I spied something at Harder's Gun Shop that tickled my fancy.
(Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled.) I bought something
really cool for Janet. The occasion was our 30 something 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 Janet 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 dog Bear looking on intently (trusting little soul),
reading the directions (that would be me, not Bear) and thinking that I really
needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I
thought about zapping Bear for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. He
is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to
Janet 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, Bear looking
on with his 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 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
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. Bear was standing over me making
growling sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly
thinking to hisself, "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 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. Miss 'em .. . sure would like to get 'em back.
Matthew. ;D
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My wife Janet is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be
something like, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone
myself once again. Here goes.
Last weekend I spied something at Harder's Gun Shop that tickled my fancy.
(Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled.) I bought something
really cool for Janet. The occasion was our 30 something 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 Janet 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 dog Bear looking on intently (trusting little soul),
reading the directions (that would be me, not Bear) and thinking that I really
needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I
thought about zapping Bear for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. He
is such a sweet dog, after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to
Janet 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, Bear looking
on with his 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 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
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. Bear was standing over me making
growling sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly
thinking to hisself, "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 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. Miss 'em .. . sure would like to get 'em back.
