(The following was sent to me by a co-worker. It was forwarded to her.
I have no idea who this "Bubba" is.)

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 cable-TV movie in the near future. So,
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
Taser 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 Bingo, it will render him into a slobbering, goggle-eyed,
muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-necked 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 AAA-sized batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions ("We don't
need no stinking 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. 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 burned 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 AAA 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, but thought better of it. She is such a
sweet kitty, and after all, 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, 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 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
jut two itsy-bitsy AAA 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 you hate
that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and
then HOLY DAaaaauuuuuuMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in
through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, and body
slammed me on the carpet over, and 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 Taser, 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 lodge the prongs 1/4" deep into 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 nipples 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. I miss 'em . . . sure would like to
get 'em back.