Last weekend I spied something at the Texas Trophy Hunters show that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my "fancy" is easily tickled). 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. Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-AAA 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 my mom 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-AAA batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner reading the directions I look up my cat Gracie (trusting little soul) whos looking intently back at me Of course I am 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 I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? ...Was I wrong to think that? .... Seemed reasonable 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-AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" "No 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.   I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and 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. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back. Yes, they are old, but we have shared such fond memories together