The Word of mAn[S]o0r: Urban Legends?? but Just TOO GOOD!!

Reading through on different blogs n urban legands i came across this story, and it was just TOO GOOD not to share! Read through to the end.. trust me! its worth it !!

Dear Friends,

My wife Toni 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 Toni.
The occasion was our 22nd 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 arch
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 arch of electricity darting back
and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did
so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!!

Yipeeeeee
. . I’m easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to
explain to Toni 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 Toni 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 SHIT!

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-BITCH 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.

Film at eleven….