My brother gave me a taser for my birthday one year. It wasn’t terribly strong – you’d have to hold its metal prongs against someone’s skin for about 10 seconds before they’d drop, but it made a really nice crackling noise and watching the electricity jump from prong to prong was exciting.
While I hoped, of course, I’d never actually need to use it against an attacker, I couldn’t help but want to taser someone with it. Just for a few seconds. Okay, until they dropped. Who wouldn’t?
My biggest fear was that I’d accidentally taser myself when reaching into my purse to grab my wallet. It’s never been my desire to be hit with jolts of electricity that would then course through my body, causing me to fall unconscious and potentially soil myself.
I managed to keep myself safe from the taser’s prongs of danger for many months, until one weekend I brought both the taser and myself to visit my college boyfriend in Pennsylvania. Brimming with Keystone Light, my boyfriend and his friends persuaded me to let them borrow the taser, and took turns zapping each other, giggling and drinking and shouting encouragement. Watching people being tasered is fine entertainment. Unfortunately, my boyfriend decided he and his friends were being selfish, hogging all the tasering fun, and he generously decided to include me in the festivities.
And that, my friends, is why you should never let your boyfriend hold your taser – he will become so enthused with its electrical prowess and the possibility of rendering someone unconscious that he will surprise taser you in the leg.
