Racing Rice
02-11-2005, 10:11 AM
Dear Friends,
My wife Phyllis 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). I bought
something really cool for Phyllis.
The occasion was our 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 arc 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 arc of electricity darting
back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did
so.
Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee.. I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet
to explain to Phyllis 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 cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Gracie) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
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 kitty, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Phyllis 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, Gracie looking on with her 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. Gracie 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!"
(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. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome
if I must say so myself. Miss 'em... sure would like to get 'em back
My wife Phyllis 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). I bought
something really cool for Phyllis.
The occasion was our 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 arc 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 arc of electricity darting
back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did
so.
Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!!
Yipeeeeee.. I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet
to explain to Phyllis 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 cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Gracie) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood
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 kitty, after all.
But, if I was going to give this thing to Phyllis 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, Gracie looking on with her 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. Gracie 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!"
(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. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome
if I must say so myself. Miss 'em... sure would like to get 'em back