I received the following story in an email from a friend. Regardless of whether or not it is a TRUE story, it is an hilarious story to read. Kinda goes with the BALLS story above.
"Last week somebody broke into my sisters Sport shop in Columbiana Ohio, so I got stuck repairing the door where they broke in. Anyway I saw something that sparked my interest. I was looking for a little something special for my wife, Marty to protect herself. We live near Youngstown Ohio, it made the top 10 list for the most dangerous cities in america What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser, it was really small and I thought it might be good for backpacking also. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse effect on the assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety... 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 disappointed. I learned, however, 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. Awesome!!!
(Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Marty 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 little triple-A batteries... Right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Sonny 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 & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Sonny (for a fraction of a second) but thought better of it. He is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger or carry it into the wilderness, 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.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than ¾ inch in circumference, (pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, "No possible waaay!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.....I'm sitting there alone, Sonny looking on with his head cocked to one side as if to say, "Don't do it Master." 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 .WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. &#$!%*!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then 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, my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, "Do it again, do it again!"
Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: 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. A three-second burst would be considered conservative.
SON-OF-A-..... That hurt like h...l!!!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, since 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 reading glasses were on the top of the bookcase. How did they get up 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."
* please remember this is not MY story - i do not have testicles, nor am i looking for them. :)
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