Thursday, January 12, 2006


On my way down to see my buddy's band play last weekend, I decided to try to be cool. It was a mistake. I should have known better. The girl I was riding with was on the phone with her mom, and I saw my stun gun on the floorboard, where I keep it in case of emergencies. In a moment of absent minded show-offery, I grabbed it, flicked the switch and hit the button. I realized, too late, that the electrodes were not pointing AWAY from me as they should, but, instead, were touching the soft, meaty part of my hand. ZAPOW! !@#$%^&* The stun gun hit the floorboard.

I covered my mouth to mask my shame, but noticed the fingers on my right hand wouldn't move right. My pinky had cramped in an odd position. Then, almost instantly, I realized how little it had hurt. It barely felt like anything. She barely noticed, other than the expletive I let out. I'm glad I never had to rely on that to stop someone. If someone ever hit me with one of those things, it would probably just make me angry. Or embarassed, if it was self-inflicted. ;-P