The Pocket Taser

[sundaynfl]

May 19, 2008, 1:53 PM OMG!!

 

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your 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 AAA 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 arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie 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, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie 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 Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. 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?

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 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 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 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best....? I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dippoopy,' 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 heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and... HOLY MOTHER OF GOD... WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION... WHAT THE HELL!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, and 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, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs.

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

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-BITCH, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as 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 mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was.

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 had no control over the drooling. Apparently I poopy myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe was came from my hair. I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!

 

PS … My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

[Hat Trick]

[Chargerz]

 

Funniest post I've read in a long, long time!!!

[Big John]

 

2 years ago....

 

[sundaynfl]

2 years ago....

 

I don't know how you do it BJ...

 

It's still funny!!

[Big John]

This seems like as good a place as any to post old, funny stuff

posted several times again started by Thews

[rajncajn]

 

Good work Big John... this definitely would have been a prime candidate for POTY otherwise.

[untateve]

Let me tell you a story about Dave's Insanity Sauce and my own stupidity.

 

There's this place in near Penn State called Cluck U Chicken. It's a franchise, so some of you may have heard of it. Anyway, at this place, every Tuesday, they do what is called their 911 Challenge.

 

Now, in case you haven't guessed it, I love hot food. All kinds really, but I really like Chicken Wings. Cluck U doesn't make real good wings (they put some kind of batter on them and I always hate that) but a bunch of my buddies got together and offered me $100 and all the beer I could drink afterwards to go take the 911 Challenge. I figured I've had some of the hottest stuff any restaurant has offered and walked away smiling, this should be no problem. Besides, I could just about double my money on the beer!

 

The following Tuesday, I dutifully collect my friends and we trotted down to Cluck U. It was about a mile walk from my office. When we get there, there's one other guy waiting to take the challenge. That's when they explain what the challenge is. 3 wings in 3 minutes. Doesn't see like much, huh? Well, a little twist was that you had to wait the entire minute before getting the next wing. Oh, and did mention the release form I had to sign before they would allow me to do this?

 

So, what does this have to do with Dave's Insanity Sauce you might ask?

 

Well, I'll tell you. When they bring out the first wing, I can tell immediately that there was going to be trouble. It looks like it has been marinating in Dave's all morning. I can smell that very distinctive odor and it's already curling the hairs in my nostrils and I haven't even began to eat the thing.

 

I was very well aware of the potential disaster awaiting me as I use this stuff in my chili. I only use drops at a time in a vat of chili but there was certainly a quarter of a bottle that the wing was floating in! I have what I like to think is a very efficient manner of eating chicken wings. I can't do it as easily with the drumette portion but with the wing with two bones, I can stick the whole thing in my mouth, clamp down my teeth, and just pull the bones out leaving the meat behind. Very quick and neat. The other advantage of this method is that the wing itself spends very little time in your mouth and therefore, so does the hot sauce. So I screwed up my courage and proceeded to devour the first of my wings.

 

Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. No wait, the flame is growing. Oh ****! this is bad. Mucho bad. OK, OK, OK, It's ****ing hot! Still, I figured that I could continue on. Minute one was over, minute two was starting and here came the second wing. A drummette, ****. I worked it over as fast as I could. Holy smokes, I didn't think it could get any hotter, but it did. This was just sheer pain at this point. White hot, searing, the skin is peeling off of the inside of my mouth pain. I know that no amount of liquid is going to help, so I disdain the cup of soda offered to me and settle down to wait my required minute.

 

Minute three arrives with the third wing. Knowing that no good was going to come from waiting, I just hammer the thing down. More pain, but I believe that endorphins had finally started to block out the impulses from my nerve endings. It didn't get any worse. But it didn't get any better either. Having survived the 911 Challenge (I was to come back the next day to have my picture taken to put on the wall), it was time to head back to my office.

 

Little did I know that this was just the beginning of my troubles. Two doors down from Cluck U Chicken is a Dairy Queen. That's as far as I made it before my stomach really felt terrible. Every step I took just seemed to destabilize it more. I dived into the Dairy Queen and got a big vanilla shake. I was thinking that ought to cool things down. And it did. I finished off the shake and started walking again. My two buddies (surprisingly both were name Jason) were concerned, but I assured them that I was OK. Now for those of you that don't know me, let me tell you that I have really long hair. It goes about two thirds of the way down my back. I tend not to put it in a pony tail, but I just pull the front back to keep it out of my eyes. The back I let hang naturally. You'll see why this is important in a moment.

 

The route back from Cluck U Chicken to my office goes right down College Avenue. This is the main drag through Penn State. About two thirds of the way back, I feel those stomach rumblings again. Worse than ever. I know there is an episode about to happen, but I make one last vain attempt to fight it off.

 

"Jason," I say. "Run to the drug store and get me a bottle of Maalox! Quickly!"

 

Jason #1, knowing that trouble is brewing, rushes to comply. I continue walking for about another half block. That's it, there's no turning back now. I rush over to the curb and yell to the other Jason, "Grab my hair, I'm gonna..." That's all I got out.

 

There I was, standing on the main drag of State College, 4 PM on a Tuesday afternoon puking while my poor friend Jason was standing right behind me holding my hair up trying to look like he doesn't know me. Just then Jason #1 comes running up with the bottle of Maalox. Just a little too late. This would be a fine place to end an embarrassing story, but alas, it was not the end.

 

I went back to my office, collected my (by now pitifully few) $100 dollars, decided to pass on the beer, and went to my office. I had an hour and a half to kill before my wife came to pick me up, and I really wasn't feeling back up to 100% of my old self. So I spent the time surfing the web and drinking the Maalox. At about 5:30 my wife comes by the office to pick me up. She knew about the challenge and asked how things had gone. I explained to her the results and got zero sympathy.

 

My office was on the third floor of the building and I normally take the stairs rather then the elevator. This time was no different. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs though, I knew there were bad things about to happen again. I decided to press on to where the car was parked. I mad it about 50 yards. By this time, the pains in my stomach were so bad I had to drop to my knees. My wife asked what was the matter. I could barely think. I told her to go get me some milk. She promptly left.

 

These pains weren't like anything I had experienced before. It wasn't heat like the heat I had in my mouth before. It was far, far worse. Like a white hot poker being shoved into my stomach and twisted, never giving the nerve endings time to die. New nerve endings constantly being tormented with sensations that should only be likened to hell. It had reached the point where I was rolling back and forth on the ground in pain, curled up in the fetal position, hoping for a quick end to my misery. My wife returns with the milk and is very concerned. She's beginning to think that I need to go to the hospital. I'm not so sure that I disagree with her.

 

I gasp out instructions for her to go get the car while I try to drink some of the milk. She gets about 10' before she's stopped by two young women.

 

"Are you all right?" they ask her.

 

She tells them that she's fine.

 

"Are you sure?" they question her again. "We saw that you're leaving him, we thought you were in trouble."

 

"Hey, I'm dying down here!" I thought I was able to say. Actually nothing more than a "Unnnnhhhhh" comes out as I thrashed around on the ground some more.

 

"No, he's my husband, he's OK." says my wife, with more than just a hint of amusement in her voice.

 

"Well, we wanted to be sure," one of the girls says. "We thought you might have maced him."

 

That was it. Between these two insipid twits and the horrendous pain in my stomach, I couldn't take it any more. I rose to my knees and somehow managed to get the carton of milk open. Tears streaming from my eyes I just start chugging the milk back, hoping that somehow, it will make the pain go away.

 

It only took about three seconds.

 

From deep with my self, I felt it coming. I couldn't care about my hair this time, out it came in a rush. I don't know where this was hiding the first time I puked, but it was definitely from the chicken incident. The first time I puked, it was more than half Vanilla shake, it was still even a little bit cold. This time, it was pure Dave's, and it burned even worse than it did on the way down. If I had had any strength left, I would have screamed, but I didn't. All I could do was collapse back onto my side once the retching was finished. I felt spent. But remarkably relieved. The pain in my stomach was gone. So were the girls. My wife had presumably gone to get the car. All was right in the world again.

 

I had survived.

 

I know this story. This story was once told by a different huddler. Who is LordOpie?

[rajncajn]

I know this story. This story was once told by a different huddler. Who is LordOpie?

http://forums.thehuddle.com/index.php?show...ity+Sauce\

 

Kid Cid posted it before

[untateve]

http://forums.thehuddle.com/index.php?show...ity+Sauce\

 

Kid Cid posted it before

 

I knew it was Kid Cid and I always assumed it was a true story of something that happened to him. Have I been completely taken in?

[Kid Cid]

I knew it was Kid Cid and I always assumed it was a true story of something that happened to him. Have I been completely taken in?

Actually, it is a true story. Ms Cid likes to remind me of it every once in a while. I'm just glad that it ended the way it did. As it was I had intestinal issues for several days aftterwards. Just bend me over and I sould spray paint walls.

 

Just curious LO, did you find this posted somewhere or did you save it it off from when I posted it?

[MikesVikes]

So Sundaynfl and Thews were at the same pawn shop?

 

I remember this story.

[broncosn05]

Bummer. Thought it was really your experience.