Last weekend at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Toni. 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 an assailant. The idea is to 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 in
two triple-a batteries and pushed the button. Nothing!
I was --- disappointed. But then I read (yes, 'read' that if I pushed
the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get
the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs and
I'd know it was working.

Awesome!!! (Actually, 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
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 and blood
moving 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 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. So,

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side
as to say, "don't do it," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole 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.

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me
up in the recliner, and 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. You should know, if you ever feel compelled to
"mug" yourself with a taser, that 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.

SON-OF-A-... 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 what little
wits I had left, sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses
were 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 my bottom lip
weighed 88 lbs. I'm still looking for my testicles!!

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