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What Donnie bought Lottie for their anniversary


Stans
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My wife Lottie 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 Lottie. 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 Lottie 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 Lottie 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

**************! 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-***** 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 round, rather large, kinda hairy, and

handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back.

Donnie

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