birdhunter88
Member
WARNING: If you need to use the restroom, do it now before you read this post. If you don't you run the risk of wetting your pants. It is kinda long but you will not regret taking the time to read it.
bird
Let me make this clear...this is not me. I did not write this. I saw it on another forum and had to share it. Enjoy!
Dear Friends,
Beth is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something
akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone
myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a
LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes. Last weekend I spied
something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in
mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled. Beth sent me into Star Market to
pick up some milk yesterday and I bought a superball in the checkout
line--50 cents. What a bargain! It tickled my fancy--still does. That
thing bounces soooooo high, and it has provided me with hours of
entertainment. It just doesn't get any better than that, now does it?)
I'm so easily distracted. That dang superball is so much fun. So what were
we talking about? Oh yeah, I bought something really cool at Larry's
Pistol and Pawn last Saturday. The occasion was our 22nd 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 fyi, but I have yet to explain to
Beth what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave . . . ruuuu roooo.
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 Molly looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Molly), and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target. I must admit I thought about zapping Molly for a fraction of a
second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet doggy, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Beth 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 boody
way!" Bloody 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, Molly looking on with her head *censored*ed
to one side as to say, "don't do it daddy," 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. Molly was standing over
me making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, licking my face,
undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again daddy, 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/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.
+/- an ounce/two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my
testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round,
rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. They make
a clanging sound, and were last seen hanging from Beth's rearview mirror.
Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.
NOTE TO MEN: DO NOT buy your wife a Tazer gun. Beth's is broke now and it
may be awhile before I get around to fixing the **** thing.
NOTE TO WOMEN: Buy lots of batteries . . . think of the possibilities.
This message is provided to you as a public service to illustrate that
stupid should hurt, and most assuredly always does in my case. Have a nice
day!
null
bird
Let me make this clear...this is not me. I did not write this. I saw it on another forum and had to share it. Enjoy!
Dear Friends,
Beth is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something
akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone
myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a
LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes. Last weekend I spied
something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in
mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled. Beth sent me into Star Market to
pick up some milk yesterday and I bought a superball in the checkout
line--50 cents. What a bargain! It tickled my fancy--still does. That
thing bounces soooooo high, and it has provided me with hours of
entertainment. It just doesn't get any better than that, now does it?)
I'm so easily distracted. That dang superball is so much fun. So what were
we talking about? Oh yeah, I bought something really cool at Larry's
Pistol and Pawn last Saturday. The occasion was our 22nd 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 fyi, but I have yet to explain to
Beth what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave . . . ruuuu roooo.
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 Molly looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Molly), and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
target. I must admit I thought about zapping Molly for a fraction of a
second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet doggy, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Beth 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 boody
way!" Bloody 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, Molly looking on with her head *censored*ed
to one side as to say, "don't do it daddy," 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. Molly was standing over
me making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, licking my face,
undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again daddy, 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/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.
+/- an ounce/two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my
testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round,
rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. They make
a clanging sound, and were last seen hanging from Beth's rearview mirror.
Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.
NOTE TO MEN: DO NOT buy your wife a Tazer gun. Beth's is broke now and it
may be awhile before I get around to fixing the **** thing.
NOTE TO WOMEN: Buy lots of batteries . . . think of the possibilities.
This message is provided to you as a public service to illustrate that
stupid should hurt, and most assuredly always does in my case. Have a nice
day!
null
