For our 15th wedding anniversary, I wanted to get my wife something unique, so I wandered into Larry’s Pistol and Pawn Shop. I came across something I thought would make the perfect gift for my wife: a 100,000-volt pocket-sized Taser. It was compact, harmless in the long term, and designed to incapacitate any would-be mugger just long enough for her to escape safely. It seemed ideal!
Naturally, I bought it.
When I got home, I eagerly loaded the Taser with two AAA batteries and pressed the button. Nothing. Disappointed, I read the instructions and discovered that you needed to press the button while touching a metal surface to activate it. I gave it a go, and a brilliant arc of electricity jumped between the prongs.
“Cool!” I thought. Unfortunately, that little experiment left a mysterious burn mark on the face of our microwave, something I have yet to explain to my wife.
With no one else at home and curiosity eating away at me, I decided to test the Taser further. After all, it’s my duty to ensure it works before handing it to my wife for self-defense, right?
So, there I was, sitting in my recliner, wearing shorts and a tank top, reading glasses perched on my nose, with my dog Leo sitting nearby. Leo, ever the skeptic, looked at me with his head tilted as if to say, “Don’t do it.” For a split second, I considered testing the Taser on him but quickly dismissed the idea. He’s a good dog, and I didn’t want to traumatize him.
Still, I couldn’t shake the need to test it on something or someone.
The instructions said a one-second burst would shock and disorient, two seconds would cause muscle spasms, and three seconds would leave the target flopping like a fish. Anything longer, they claimed, was a waste of batteries.
“This tiny thing?” I scoffed, holding the Taser in my hand. “No way it’s that powerful.”
What happened next defies logic, common sense, and my dignity.
Reasoning that a one-second zap couldn’t hurt too badly, I pressed the prongs to my bare thigh and hit the button.
What followed can only be described as a meeting with my Maker.
In that instant, my entire body went into violent convulsions. The recliner I was sitting in somehow launched itself across the room. I swear Hulk Hogan entered my house, picked me up, and body-slammed me repeatedly onto the carpet.
I woke up moments later in the fetal position, drenched in sweat, every muscle in my body twitching. My nipples felt like they were on fire, my testicles had seemingly vanished, and my dog was hiding behind the couch, barking in tones I had never heard before.
Apparently, there’s no such thing as a “one-second burst” when you zap yourself. Your hand won’t release the Taser until your body has thoroughly rebelled and flung it across the room.
When I finally regained control of my faculties, I took stock of the destruction:
My reading glasses were now bent and sitting on top of the TV.
The recliner was upside down, about eight feet from where it started.
My face felt like it had been injected with Novocain, and my bottom lip was swollen.
I couldn’t stop drooling.
There was a faint smell of burning hair in the air (mine).
And then I noticed my shorts. Let’s just say … it wasn’t pretty.
As for my wife? She found the whole ordeal hilarious. She absolutely loves the gift and now threatens to use it on me whenever I get out of line.
Lessons Learned:
Never test a Taser on yourself.
PS: My wife’s laughter still echoes in my ears.