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First day of Retirement
My First Day of Retirement
My wife is fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be
something akin to "Well, I have out done myself once again." No
doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a Lifetime movie in the
near future. Here goes.
On my first day of retirement, I bought something at the Police
Supply Shop that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is
easily tickled). I bought something really cool for my wife. The
occasion is my retirement and I was looking for a little something
extra for my lovely bride.
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! I've seen several
demonstrations for cops, but I found this handheld one for
civilians.
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded
two AAA 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 it.
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 her 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, her cat looking on intently (trusting
little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the cat) and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and
blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the cat 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 my wife 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 with my
reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in
one hand, Tazer 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 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 AAA 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, the cat 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 ****! DAaaaaMN!!! 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. The cat was standing over me making 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 lodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep
in your thigh like yours truly)
SON-OF-A- B**CH 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 sorta round. Miss 'em...! sure would like to get 'em back.
I wonder what retirement day two will bring?
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