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Due to a recent rash of vandalism in my neighborhood, I finally
succeeded in convincing my wife that we should purchase a home firearm.
Against her protests, we traveled to the local gun store, where I
perused the wonderful stock of weaponry that lay (just waiting for me!)
in the glass cases.

My choice was a Rossi double-barreled shotgun. It was indeed a
beautiful weapon. As I gazed down the sights, I happily imagined myself
blowing away countless baddies, while a Rocky-like theme played in the
background. Unfortunately, my wife would have no part of the thing. She
said if I really had to have a weapon, it’d have to be something
smaller. A lot smaller.

That evening, I sat at the kitchen table staring dejectedly at my new
purchase. The label on the box read simply: The Stunner. It wasn’t
exactly a shotgun, but still — according to the guy who sold it to us
– the electric shock delivered by the Stunner would knock a man out for
from “one to ten minutes” depending upon the size of the jolt you gave
him.

Following dinner, I went for my regular evening stroll around the
neighborhood. Only this time I was accompanied by … The Stunner. At
first I walked with a new bravado in my step; however after a few
blocks, something seemed amiss. I took out the Stunner and pressed the
button.

A loud zapping noise arose as the electric current shot between the
two metal probes. Still, the fact was, I didn’t know if the thing
actually worked. I mean, what if a serial killer jumped out of the
bushes — I pulled out my Stunner and zapped him — and the guy just
stood there … laughing at me!?

There were no two ways about it. I had to test the thing out. The
question was — on who? Since a human was — for the moment
anyhow — out of the question, it’d have to be something … smaller.
Perhaps a dog or a cat. Hey, no biggie. It was, after all, only a test
– purely in the interest of science, right?

Unfortunately, all the cats I came across looked too nice; I just
couldn’t bring myself to send 7500 volts of electricity coursing through
their furry little bodies.

Moments later, as I rounded a corner, a miniature collie ran out of a
driveway barking its head off. As the dog came at me, I held my ground,
and laughed in its face. Seeing that I didn’t retreat, the dumb beast
just stood there growling, a confused look on its face.

“Come on, cur!” I snarled. “I dare you to come closer, you evil hound
of hell!”

I took out my Stunner and zapped it in the air. The dog ran
backwards, its paws skittering stupidly on the driveway. I ran after it,
happily zapping away. But back on its own turf, the dog’s bravery
returned. It turned and came after me again, yapping away. Now it was I
who ran.

We went back and forth like that for a good five or six minutes.
Finally it became obvious that both of us were cowards of the first
order. I turned in disgust and continued on my walk.

Soon, I spied a troop of ants parading across the sidewalk. I bent
over and zapped a few of them. They promptly crinkled up, their little
legs kicking lifelessly in the air. Still, I couldn’t be satisfied with
such a test. No, I had to find more substantial prey.

Finally, at the top of a hill, I saw a cat pawing at something. The
thing slithered away and the cat went after it. I approached to see what
it was.

God had answered my call. There, in front of me, sat a great grey
lizard, approximately six or seven inches in length. As I approached,
the cat ran off, and the lizard — seeing its chance for freedom –
tried to make its escape into some nearby bushes.

Unfortunately, I was too quick for it. I bent down and zapped him.

ZZZZTTTTTTT!!!!

Then, just for good measure, I zapped him again.

The lizard stopped moving. I picked him up in my hands; he was stiff
as a board. The thing looked up at me, its poor eyes blinking in its
head. Instantly, a terrible wave of pity arose in me. Ah, you dear, sad
beast … I am truly sorry. I have crippled and maimed you, purely to
satisfy my own selfish desires. Please kind sir,forgive me!

I put the lizard down on the ground and tried to rouse him by dousing
him in some water running in the gutter. Alas, he remained immobilized.
Finally, beset with guilt, I continued on my way. Before turning the
corner, I stunned several more ants and a sowbug, but my heart just
wasn’t in it.

I knew what I had to do. I sat down on the curb, and pulled off my
tennis shoe. Then, I proceeded to put the Stunner to my bare toe. There
was no choice. I had to do it. I had tested this hideous
instrument of pain and torture on some poor, helpless creature; now I
must take a dose of my own medicine!

I held the Stunner to my toe and pressed the button.

ZAAAPP!! A hideous jolt of pain stabbed through my foot.

“YOWWWWCHHHH” I screamed at no one in particular.

ZAAAPPPPP! I did it again.

It was pure agony,
but I knew I deserved it. This time my screams attracted the attention
of a couple of kids across the street, who regarded me curiously. One
kid made the “crazy” sign, his finger circling his head. His friend
nodded.

I considered employing my Stunner on these two nasty little brats.
They were just about the right size for it. But you never know when some
overprotective, muscle-bound father is lurking nearby.

Ultimately, I was forced to settle with giving them the finger. They
responded in kind.

Ten minutes later, my foot still throbbing, I limped back down the
hill. When I got to the place where I’d set the lizard down, I stopped
and looked around. He was nowhere in sight. Obviously, when the shock
had worn off, he’d beat it the hell out of there.

I got down on my knees and said a silent thank you to God, for
indeed, He had shone his glorious mercy down upon this brave beast of
the fields. And all at once, as if by magic — my guilt vanished –
poof! — just like that.

Now I was ready. My mission was clear.

Stunner in hand, I strode confidently through the neighborhood
alternately laughing and glaring at the little kids who rode by me on
their bicycles, and old men hobbling along on their evening strolls.
None of them dared meet my gaze for instinctively they knew that I held
doom and destruction within my very grasp!

Before I reached my house, I stopped in front of the abode of the
evil collie who had dared to challenge me earlier. I yelled numerous
times, zapping my stunner to punctuate my cries — daring the foul beast
to come out and meet its maker.

Not so much as even one bark came in return.

My power was at its zenith. I knew it. He knew it. Everyone
knew it.

There was no stopping me now. …

I spent the remainder of the evening in front of the tube watching a
rerun of “Godzilla Meets The Smog Monster” and fantasizing about what
the future held for the New Me.

Feeling positively chipper, the following morning I headed over to
the army surplus store, where I purchased a shiny pair of Smith & Wesson
police handcuffs as well as a canister of extra-strength pepper spray. I
capped off my buying spree with a really nasty pair of thumb cuffs
(extremely painful!). Now, not only would I be able to zap any bad guys
I met up with — but after I’d immobilized them with my stunner
(followed by a face-full of mace), I’d arrest them — whereupon
I’d haul their pitiful, manacled bodies into the local police station,
where I’d be cheered wildly by the assembled officers for my act of
bravery.

Or perhaps — better yet — I’d simply leave the zapped and blinded
villains handcuffed to a telephone pole (their pants pulled down to
their knees) where they’d more-than-likely have to wait hours (maybe
even days) until some halfwit Jehovah’s Witness or some other foolish
humanitarian decided to unshackle them. (Fat chance. I mean, who do
you know that walks around with handcuff keys?)

Ah yes. This was going to be fun! And the best part was, I’d
be serving God and country (while getting my jollies).

And so, dear friends, I want you to feel safe tonight, knowing that
I patrol the highways and byways of our fair land. Fear not, people! A
new hero has arisen — a lone warrior … ready to take on the creeps
and the lowlifes … the scum and the swine — the evil, stinking vermin
who dare to inject fear into the hearts of all God-fearing American
citizens!

I’m telling you people — forget Batman! Forget Superman!
Forget Spiderman! Forget em all!

(MUSIC UP …)

StunMan has arrived.


HITMAN HOOHAH

S.L. Goldman will shortly be
embarking on a spoken word tour of the U.S. and Europe. Goldman will be
sharing the bill with author/rockstar Henry Rollins, former Surf Punk
lead singer/songwriter Dennis Dragon, actor/musician/poet Sean Penn, as
well as several other acts (including belly dancers, animal trainers,
magicians and aging strippers).
Goldman,
whose entourage includes two bodyguards, promises that any hecklers in
the audience will be beaten severely, as well as zapped with his new
Stungun.

For a tour schedule
please write to:
tour@thetongue.com. For updates on the many new and incendiary
Tongue products
please call: 1-888-257-2656.

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