Not too long ago, I saw something at the gun shop that sparked my interest.
The occasion was our 10th anniversary and I was looking for a little
something extra for my wife. What I came across was a 100,000-volt,
pocket/purse-sized tazer.

The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term
adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to
safety. Needless to say, this was way too cool. Long story short, I bought
the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the thing and
pushed the button. Fo.kall! I was so disappointed. I learned, however, that
if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same
time; I'd get a blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the
prongs. Awesome!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to my wife what that burn spot is on
the face of her LG convection oven.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it
couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? Yah.

There I sat in my recliner, my cat looking on intently, the 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 Kitty for a fraction of a second, but thought better
of it. She is such a sweet cat and, as most of you already know, hell hath
no fury like a cat pissed off. 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 my Blue Bulls supporter jersey, 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 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" long,
less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two
itsy, bitsy AAA batteries thinking to myself "no flippin' way!"

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.

I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head tilted to one side
as if to say, "don't do it, you stupid man," reasoning that a one-second
burst from such a tiny little ole thingy 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 @@@!!!!,
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION, CRAP ON A STICK, F@&$ ME
GEORGE!!!!! I'm pretty sure THE BLUE BULLS TEAM ran in through the side
door, picked me up, body slammed me on the carpet over and over and over
again and then slammed the recliner over my head just for fun.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in
my eyes, body soaking wet smelling like piss, both nipples on fire,
testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the
oddest position, and pins and needles in my legs. The cat 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 you stupid d@@s!"


Please take this from the voice of experience - 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! Three second burst would be considered conservative.

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 and forlorn reading glasses were hanging miserably on
the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My triceps, right
thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been
shot up with Novocain, and judging by how my jaw hung listlessly, my bottom
lip must have weighed 88 lbs. By the way, at this point my testicles,
feeling like they withdrew into my body somewhere around my ribcage, are
still waiting for the all clear signal to emerge from the bomb shelter. Now
I know how Tom Hanks' character felt when he had to go search for Private
Ryan. I felt like I should offer a significant reward for their safe return.
Even now, I experience shrinkage when I plug anything into the socket.

So if you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a tazer to test it,
take my advice! Repeat after me...here, kitty kitty...