Taser Quotes

Tasers are a one-size-fits-all paranormal butt-kicking option. Mine’s pink with rhinestones.

It's a hard thing to hold a civil conversation after recalling that one party has used a Taser on the other, so both of them finished the walk in silence.

I brought out the most powerful tool I had in my arsenal. "If you resist," I said into Reyes's ear, "I'll be forced to Taser you." He looked at what I had in my hand. "That's a phone." "I have an app. You'll probably experience nerve damage. Slight memory loss.

Do y’all have enough stun guns for them? (Madaug) Does a bear defecate rurally? What kind of question is that for someone who owns the biggest gun store in town? Of course I got plenty. I got enough Tasers to light up New York City AND Boston just for giggles. (Bubba)

Tasers are a one-size-fits-all paranormal butt-kicking option.

And what happens when I finally decide to let him in, and he tells me that he doesn’t feel the spark that I feel?” “Then you Taser him and ask him again when he wakes up.” She laughed.

A Taser? Really? What are you, a mall cop?

Since killing people is illegal, can I have a Taser just for shits and giggles? -Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

You ever meet someone and want to buy them a taser for their bathtub?

Just as he reached for my neck, I tased him. I was there to bag and tag, not to kill. Besides, if I had to carry separate weapons for every paranormal I took out, I'd be dragging around a full luggage set. Tasers are a one-size-fits-all paranormal butt-kicking option. Mine's pink with rhinestones. Tasey and I have had a lot of good times together.

You have to go where I lead you, right? Unless I taser you. Then you'll have to go where I drag you.

I guess we'll have to get you a Taser too.” Meow. “No, I'm not getting you a knife.” Meow. “We'll discuss this when I get back.

So this Zealot comes to my door, all glazed eyes and clean reproductive organs, asking me if I ever think about God. So I tell him I killed God. I tracked God down like a rabid dog, hacked off his legs with a hedge trimmer, raped him with a corncob, and boiled off his corpse in an acid bath. So he pulls an alternating-current taser on me and tells me that only the Official Serbian Church of Tesla can save my polyphase intrinsic electric field, known to non-engineers as "the soul." So I hit him. What would you do?

That hallmark image of cupid as a fat cherub with arrows? I think the real cupid is some kind of psycho juvie with a taser.

Oh God, that hurts,” she whimpered. “What hurts?” Kye asked, sounding concerned. “The invisible man pounding spikes into my head.” “That doesn’t sound good. Maybe you should take out an invisible Taser gun and zap the son of a bitch.

In one hand I have a restraining order, and in the other I have a Taser. Which would you like to meet first?

I am the neurological opposite of a psychopath, in that I feel anxious almost all the time. It must be great to not constantly feel like you’ve got someone living inside your face, shooting you with a mini Taser.

The iPhone 2 led to the 3, but I didn’t get the 4 or 5 because I’m holding out for the 7, which, I’ve heard on good authority, can also be used as a Taser. This will mean I’ll have just one less thing to carry around.

And in your time period, there are plenty of tasers and electrical devices that can completely incapacitate me. No offense, but I don’t relish being someone’s science experiment. Been there, done that, and sold the T-shirt for profit. (Sebastian)

Your birthday gift to me is to place me in the middle of an art heist so that I can taser someone?” He nodded, smiling, looking very proud. “Thank you, Alex. I mean it. I...I just love you so much.

I once got hit with a taser at a concert and everyone thought I was dancing. Now I have to do that dance, at every show for the rest of my life, or admit that a taser can damage the Thom Yorke. —Thom Yorke, whispering to himself

No one is protecting you. You are all alone, aren’t you?” he asks while he lets my elbow drop from his hand. I can no longer see his face clearly because my tears are making it impossible, but unfortunately for him, I’ve found what I’ve been searching for in my bag. “I don’t need anyone to protect me when I have this!” I say in a desperate tone. Pushing the Taser into his side, I release the safety and pull the trigger. The hot, kinetic sizzle of electricity snarls through the gun and into his torso, but Reed doesn’t fall down and start twitching like in the demonstration video. Instead, his eyebrows shoot up in an expression somewhere between disbelief and amazement as he asks, “Are you serious?

She didn't need a Taser; she was more than capable of defending herself without electricity. She'd had an unusual education.

Two cops Tasered me at the same time once, and it barely phased me.

I will,” I say quietly. Popping open the box, I see the black-and-yellow plastic of the barrel. The whole thing is incredibly light, and only about ten inches long. Whispering down into the box reverently, I murmur, “I shall call you Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the king of Gondol—” “Charlotte! Don’t name your Taser.

See this?" Isa pulled something dark and oblong out of her purse. Chance's mouth twitched. "Turbo Vagisil?" "No, it's a taser!

Nothing says 'I'm not that into you', like taser-fire.

you know what doesn’t work when people are tasering you? It’s shouting ‘Stop tasering me.’ If they’re tasering you already, they won’t stop because you ask them to.

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire the world must fall—” Jason shot to his feet. His eyes looked wild, like he’d just been tasered. Even Rachel seemed caught off guard. “J-Jason?” she said. “What’s—” “Ut cum spiritu postrema sacramentum dejuremus,” he chanted. “Et hostes ornamenta addent ad ianuam necem.

In lieu of Tasers, you'll have to hit me. Hard as you can. Then maybe some kind of fight-or-flight response will kick in and I'll turn into a bat to get away from you." "Fight or flight." "Yes." "Only half of that is flight.

Don't Tase Me Bro! If I'm a cop, and I'm a brotha, and they let me have a taser? Sorry bro, I'm tasing you.

I wished I owned a Taser…and had already done my makeup. I opened the door.

Other girls carried tasers or pepper spray for safety. Rosa had bought herself a stapler in a hardware store on the corner of Baltic and Clinton Streets. Her thinking was simple. An electric shock is nasty but leaves no marks. With her method, though, she could put two or three staples into any attacker’s body. Then he’d have to stop and decide whether to tangle with her or start getting the staples out of his skin.

[W]hile the use of non-lethal weapons such as tasers and LEDIs may not necessarily reduce the number of civilian casualties, they have been largely accepted as the humane alternative to deadly force because they make the use of force appear far less dramatic and violent than it has in the past. Contrast, for instance, the image of police officers beating Rodney King with billy clubs as opposed to police officers continually shocking a person with a taser. Both are severe forms of abuse. However, because the act of pushing a button is far less dramatic and visually arresting than swinging a billy club, it can come across as much more humane to the general public. This, of course, draws much less media coverage and, thus, less bad public relations for the police.

I’d offer to take you for a test-drive, but I’m afraid that Supercop over there would probably Taser me with his stun gun. So you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,

Ready to have some fun?” She didn’t give him time to answer. Weighed down with the chains, she flashed to a busy street in New York—fingers crossed he would be run over—then to a gay strip club in Italy—fingers crossed he would be groped—then to a zoo in Oklahoma—fingers crossed the elephant shit was ripe. “Enjoy,” she muttered with relish. Anya flashed one final time, back to where she’d begun: his home in Greece. Lucien was still following her trail. Lightning-quick, she hid the chains under the bed and palmed her Taser. When she straightened he was there, just in front of her. Her breath caught. He was still scowling, teeth bared and sharp, Death glowing in his eyes. He had a bleeding cut on his leg and he smelled like shit. Her nose wrinkled. “Step in something?” she asked innocently. “That, I did not mind.” He took a menacing step toward her. “What I did mind was being hit by a cab, then landing on the lap of a naked man. With an erection, Anya. He had an erection.” She grinned. She just couldn’t help herself.

Go ’head mouth off to me some mo’. I buzz you with my buzzer.” Bennett lowered the paper to the table. “For the last time, it’s not a ‘buzzer.’ It’s not like one of those party tricks that gives somebody a little zap. It’s a Taser. It’s for self-defense, not for smacking someone you can’t reach, and not for frying the brains out of the neighbor’s dog.

Seth turns to Laney and I. "Three months ago, I'm in Detroit protesting a free trade conference, right? Some pig shoves me, I go flying into another, next thing I know I'm on the ground with a Taser in my back. I get thrown in city jail, no money and one phone call. So I call Jake. You know what this fucker did? He dropped everything, drove up and bailed me out, no questions." "Like I could just leave you," Jake says. "You're too pretty. You're a delicate flower. They would've ripped you apart in there.

You're a beautiful young woman walking without an escort at one in the morning. Why doesn't one of your staff at least see you to your car?" "Because they're not sexist pigs who think women are incapable of taking care of themselves." Chance rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with feminism. I'm all for gender equality, but the fact remains that women are targeted for more specific crimes than men, and the perpetrators of those crimes often look for circumstances such as these to attack." "See this?" Isa pulled something dark and oblong out of her purse. Chance's mouth twitched. "Turbo Vagisil?" "No, It's a taser!" Isa said indignantly. "I can take care of myself, Chance. I've been doing that just fine for the past twenty-nine and a half years before you showed up, remember?

Stun me. I mean it. Draw the gun and shoot. I want you to do it, Kendra. Show me what it feels like. I'm looking for more. Show me something I don't know. Stun me to my DNA. Come on, do it. Click the switch. Aim and fire. I want the volts the weapon holds. Do it. Shoot it. Now.

When we sat down in the plane, Clare took something out of her pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a tube of lipstick. I frowned at her. 'Is this really the time to swap make-up?' I asked. She grinned. 'It's a hand taser. My parents make me carry one.' She took the cap off and pointed to the metal edge. 'If someone attacks you, you press the tip against their skin and it shoots out a charge.' I looked down at it. 'Does it last long?' She shook her head. 'It's pretty harmless. Noah and Pat used to play taser tag around the house when I was growing up.

I miss Cindy McCain - she seemed so life-like. I'm a moderate lesbian - I only hold a grudge for six generations. Step away from your e-vehicle. Email is a depressant. The patriarchy is so Dada. We've got homomentum! America was built by affirmative action - for white men. If they want gay people to stop having sex, let them get married. I'm on a single prayer health plan: please god, don't let me get sick. Taser them with love.

If I could mark clearly, convincingly and consistently what was good for me and also what was bad — if I could say yes and also no, as if it were the law — it would become my law. It finally had to. I understood that it wouldn’t be easy, it would be very hard; I’d need to resist the habit I had developed long ago – with conviction. I’d have to be impolite, an inconvenience, and sometimes awkward. But if I could commit, all that discomfort would add up to zap predatory threats like a Taser gun. I’d stun them. They’d bow to me. I’d let my no echo against the mountains. And better to feel bad for a moment saying no – and stop it – than to get harmed.

I’m learning about how a properly applied Taser can thoroughly discourage pests of the private dick variety.

I didn’t want to throw him in any ol’ piranha tank, I wanted to throw him into a tank filled with genetically modified super-piranhas carrying tasers and bullwhips. Asshole.

Nate jumped up and down, voice cracking as he talked. "It worked! It worked! My Taser worked! Ha! Oh yeah, oh yeah! I can't believe I got this thing on eBay!

Chase is playing escort this morning. He gets cranky if we keep him waiting too long." "We wouldn't want the man with the Taser to get cranky.

It’s a hard thing to hold a civil conversation after recalling that one party has used a Taser on the other, so both of them finished the walk in silence.

I wish somebody would combine tasers and dildos, and test the devices out on all the politicians in Washington DC. Well, all the politicians except Barney Frank, who’d actually derive pleasure from the experiment.

You see, in the Marine Corps, they teach you that if you’re going to carry or use something, you need to do so responsibly. So, if you’re going to deploy tear gas, you have to spend some time in a gas chamber finding out just how bad it sucks. Same thing with tasers, and hell, if it didn’t cost so much to train new Marines, they’d probably test rifles out on you, as well. My beloved Corps can be a bit thick headed about things like that.

That’s a good idea,” Boudreaux said, catching Amelia glaring at him. “You stand in your house shoes out there in the flooded yard and start shooting your Taser around.” “You makin’ fun of me, then,” she said. “No, I’m simply pointing out a gaping flaw in your offense,” he said. “Stop talkin’ to her,” Amelia said, and Boudreaux winked at her, then gave Miss Evangeline a sly smile. “Smile at me again,” she said. “I come there and slap your head right off your neck.” Boudreaux

The only problem is, Jack…you’re wrong,” I say, striking out with the last word. I hit Jack’s chest with a Taser. He lets out a strangled, gritty groan and drops to the dirt. His body convulses in distress as I uncap a syringe with my other hand.

Yeah, I think that Raven woman must not have been too pleased when I tasered her,’ Penny replied with a lopsided grin. ‘You are tasering Raven!’ Franz said slightly too loudly as he sat down on the sofa. ‘This is not being a clever thing to do.’ ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Nigel said as he sat down next to Franz. ‘Glad to see that you still have all your limbs at least.’ ‘I doubt that Raven would have resorted to dismemberment except under circumstances of extreme provocation,’ Wing said with a slight frown. ‘I was jok— Never mind,’ Nigel said, rolling his eyes.

Ayden came down the hall as I tucked the gun in the back of my waistband and Taser in my pocket. He raised a brow. “Weapons?” “It’s how she shows she cares. A & E Kirk (2014-05-26). Drop Dead Demons: The Divinicus Nex Chronicles: Book 2 (Divinicus Nex Chronicles series) (p. 481). A&E Kirk. Kindle Edition.

From this point on, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. As soon as her bare feet hit the carpet Valerie realised what it was the intruder was holding. It was a Taser. It was her Taser – the one Bennett had packed for her. Before she’d taken two steps, the Mohawk was raising the electroshock weapon toward her;

I pulled my Taser and ordered him to stop.” “And he listened?” I asked. “Oh no,” Kevin said. “Not at all. He shoved me out of his way and tried to make a run for it.” “So what’d you do, chase him down and tackle him?” Summer asked. “Er . . . no,” Kevin replied. “When he pushed me, I tripped over a little kid and, uh, sort of accidentally fired my Taser.” “So you tasered James Van Amburg by accident?” Mom gasped. “No.” Kevin said. “I tasered a different guest by accident. But then she fell down and Van Amburg tripped over her and knocked himself unconscious on the curb.” Hoenekker cringed, looking mortified by this story. “Wow,” J.J. muttered. “This is a real crack staff we have here.” “Thanks!” Kevin said, failing to grasp J.J.’s sarcasm. “Any idea what this accidental tasing’s gonna cost me?” J.J. asked. “Well, the woman was pretty upset,” Kevin admitted. “Especially because it happened in front of her grandkids.” “You tased a grandmother?!” J.J. exclaimed, horrified.

How many of you knew what the Thomas A Swift Electric Rifle was? An idea in the book years ago, and now who hasn't heard of a T.A.S.E.R.

From the pocket of her windbreaker he extracted what he falsely believed to be a portable marine radio, which along with two granola bars he'd pilfered from Honey's belongings after she was snatched by the club-handed lunatic. Shreave started pressing buttons on the compact gadget and barking, "Mayday! Mayday! There was no response from the Coast Guard pilot or any other human, and for a good reason. Except for its LED screen, the instrument in Shreave's possession was electronically dissimilar to a radio in all significant respects. Most crucial was the absence of either an audio receiver or a transmitter. "SOS! SOS!" he persisted. "Help!" The device was in fact a mobile GPS unit, as technogically impenetrable to Shreave as the Taser gun he'd found beneath Honey's bed.

It was then you'd have thought I'd been shot by a Taser, as paralyzed as I was at the sight of her - the perfect feminine form, the image hitting me with the velocity of a Slurpee-like brain-freeze, rendering me again the helpless, hapless male. Any trace of rationality or logic or even common sense that might've been there before is quickly abandoning ship, leaving Dickbrain at the helm and Lust navigating,

She’s close to me, and I make a point of taking a deep breath as she gets even closer. “Well, don’t you smell fucking delicious, officer,” I say into her ear. Her hands still momentarily before continuing. “I’d love to have you across my knee,” I say as she finally unlocks the cuffs and stands back up, her cheeks burning bright red. “I will taser you,” she says through clenched teeth. “In the balls.” The comment makes me bark out a laugh. “Promises, promises.

The iPhone 2 led to the 3, but I didn’t get the 4 or 5 because I’m holding out for the 7, which, I’ve heard on good authority, can also be used as a Taser. This will mean I’ll have just one less thing to carry around. And isn’t that technology’s job? To lighten our burden? To broaden our horizons? To make it possible to talk to your attorney and listen to a Styx album and check the obituaries in the town where your parents continue to live and videotape a race riot and send a text message and stun someone into submission all at the same time?

Evelyn?” one asked. “Yeah,” I said, waving a hand dismissively and moving to walk past them. Lend always hung his keys on a ring near the door. I’d get those, and—” “You’re under arrest for violating statute one point one of the International Paranormal Control Charter.” I stopped. “Wait, seriously? Seriously? You guys are here to arrest me?” I started laughing. Wow, you so picked the wrong day. Come back next week, okay?” Before I could move one of them shoved a shiny silver Taser at me; the last thought that went through my head before I collapsed, shaking on the ground, was that, bleep, being tased really sucked.

I explained Crime 101 to the kid. “Guns escalate things. They’re only good for crowd control. We’re going in after closing hours, so we don’t need crowd control.” “Yeah,” Augie said, “but what about security? What if they start bustin’ caps?” Bustin’ caps. I wondered how many hip-hop posters he had on his bedroom wall. “Site’s handled by Gold Star Security Northwest,” I explained. “They don’t carry guns, just Tasers and pepper spray. They also make thirteen bucks an hour, and heroics are highly discouraged in their training manual. Their standing orders in case of a burglary are to retreat to safe ground and call the real cops. That gives us plenty of time to bug out if we get spotted and blow it.” “Cool,” Augie said.

I want you to know how proud I am. You’re doing the right thing, and I don’t want you to worry about what’s going to happen after. We’ll figure it out.” She looked back at David and beamed, as happy as I’d ever seen her. “I have no doubt of that. Although I do have one serious concern.” “Yes?” “UPARG? It doesn’t roll off the tongue in quite the same way IPCA did.” Raquel heaved a why must you joke at inappropriate times sigh, then lifted her chin haughtily. “Well, maybe we won’t invite you to be a part of it, then.” I laughed. “Please, by all means, leave me out. I think it’s high time I retire.” “Even if we issue you your own custom companion Taser for Tasey?” I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “We’ll talk when I’m done here.

The United States of America has now reached a whole new level of patriarchal absurdity. You mean they massacred the Indians, enslaved the Africans, cut down all the trees, poisoned all the rivers, and extinguished or imprisoned all the animals for THIS, this hellhole of bombast and hamburgers and opioid addictions and cardboard-box houses and pretend ideas? You mean they used up all the oxygen on 4th of July firecrackers and forcing kids to pledge allegiance to the flag every goddam day, drank Coke till they choked, spat tobaccy till they puked, fought cancer (but only for people with lots of money), nestled in Nestlés, slurped slurpees, burped burpees, handed on herpes, Tasered the wayward, jailed the frail and tortured about a million billion chickens (then fried and ate them), just so people can drive around and shoot each other and create GoFundMe sites to pay the hospital bills?

NO, WE DO NOT HAVE PENS! Bring your own. You'll need them. You see, like every other department in the city, Records runs on Almighty Forms. There are forms that tell the Night Mayor's office what we hunters are doing - starting an investigation, ending one, or reaching various points along the way. There are forms that make things happen, from installing rat traps to getting lab work done. There are forms with which to requisition peep-hunting equipment, from tiger cages to Tasers. (The form for commandeering a genuine NYC garbage truck may be thirty-four pages long, but one day I will think of some reason to fill it out, I swear to you.) There are even forms that activate other forms or switch them off, that cause other forms to mutate, thus bringing newly formed forms into the world. Put together, all these forms are the vast spiral of information that defines us, guides our growth, and makes sure our future looks like our past - they are the DNA of the Night Watch.

When she finally reached it, she bent forward and looked through the peephole. Jay was grinning back at her from outside. Her heart leaped for a completely different reason. She set aside her crutches and quickly unbolted the door to open it. "What took you so long?" Her knee was bent and her ankle pulled up off the ground. She balanced against the doorjamb. "What d'you think, dumbass?" she retorted smartly, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't alert her parents. "You scared the crap out of me, by the way. My parents are already in bed, and I was all alone down here." "Good!" he exclaimed as he reached in and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her up against him and wrapping his arms around her. She giggled while he held her there, enjoying everything about the feel of him against her. "What are you doing here? I thought I wouldn't see you till tomorrow." "I wanted to show you something!" He beamed at her, and his enthusiasm reached out to capture her in its grip. She couldn't help smiling back excitedly. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly. He didn't release her; he just turned, still holding her gently in his arms, so that she could see out into the driveway. The first thing she noticed was the officer in his car, alert now as he kept a watchful eye on the two of them. Violet realized that it was late, already past eleven, and from the look on his face, she thought he must have been hoping for a quiet, uneventful evening out there. And then she saw the car. It was beautiful and sleek, painted a glossy black that, even in the dark, reflected the light like a polished mirror. Violet recognized the Acura insignia on the front of the hood, and even though she could tell it wasn't brand-new, it looked like it had been well taken care of. "Whose is it?" she asked admiringly. It was way better than her crappy little Honda. Jay grinned again, his face glowing with enthusiasm. "It's mine. I got it tonight. That's why I had to go. My mom had the night off, and I wanted to get it before..." He smiled down at her. "I didn't want to borrow your car to take you to the dance." "Really?" she breathed. "How...? I didn't even know you were..." She couldn't seem to find the right words; she was envious and excited for him all at the same time. "I know right?" he answered, as if she'd actually asked coherent questions. "I've been saving for...for forever, really. What do you think?" Violet smiled at him, thinking that he was entirely too perfect for her. "I think it's beautiful," she said with more meaning than he understood. And then she glanced back at the car. "I had no idea that you were getting a car. I love it, Jay," she insisted, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her up, cradling her like a small child." "I'd offer to take you for a test-drive, but I'm afraid that Supercop over there would probably Taser me with his stun gun. So you'll have to wait until tomorrow," he said, and without waiting for an invitation he carried her inside, dead bolting the door behind him. He settled down on the couch, where she'd been sitting by herself just moments before, without letting her go. There was a movie on the television, but neither of them paid any attention to it as Jay reclined, stretching out and drawing her down into the circle of his arms. They spent the rest of the night like that, cradled together, their bodies fitting each other perfectly, as they kissed and whispered and laughed quietly in the darkness. At some point Violet was aware that she was drifting into sleep, as her thoughts turned dreamlike, becoming disjointed and fuzzy and hard to hold on to. She didn't fight it; she enjoyed the lazy, drifting feeling, along with the warmth created by the cocoon of Jay's body wrapped protectively around her. It was the safest she'd felt in days...maybe weeks... And for the first time since she'd been chased by the man in the woods, her dreams were free from monsters.

The report is more persuasive in describing the department’s shoddy record-keeping and the lax oversight of beat cops. The failure to supervise officers’ use of force results in excessive resort to Tasers. Equally problematic is Ferguson’s practice of issuing a quasi-warrant known as a “wanted” without the requisite probable cause to believe that the target has committed a crime. (Many other departments abuse “wanteds,” too.) The municipal court, like the police department, is error-prone in its records and notice systems. Had the Justice Department blasted Ferguson’s management and training failures and left it at that, it would have been on solid footing. But the imperative to racialize the problems was overwhelming, especially given Holder’s previous statements against Ferguson and the subsequent discrediting of the Brown story. So the department trots out the usual statistical analyses with which to bootstrap a charge of “intentional discrimination” against blacks. And these statistical analyses are irredeemably deficient.

I call an ambulance and do a mini-intake over the phone but they will not come to help when they hear his background. He is a felon, they say. You have to call the police. I beg. Please help us. This isn’t a criminal matter. They refuse. They disconnect the line. My mother and I go back and forth and decide we have no other choice. I call the local law enforcement office and explain everything. I beg them to go slow. I tell them Monte’s history with police because by now I know how he was beaten and tortured by LA County sheriffs. Two rookies arrive and they are young as fuck. I meet them downstairs. I ask them, What will you do if my brother gets violent? Monte’s never been violent but I am trying to prepare for anything. I’m—we’re—in a place we’ve never been. We’ll just taser him, one responds. No! My God! Absolutely not! I refuse to let them past me until they promise me they won’t hurt him, and when they finally do, I lead them into the apartment, explaining to Monte as I walk through the door, It’s okay. It’s okay. They’re just here to help. And my brother. My big, loving, unwell, good-hearted brother, my brother who has rescued small animals and my brother who has never, never hurt another human being, drops to his knees and begins to cry. His hands are in the air. He is sobbing. Please don’t take me back. Please don’t take me back. I stop cold. I tell the police they have to leave and they do and I get down on the floor. I curl up next to Monte. I hold him as much as he’ll allow.

Grace winced, watching the action outside. “I think Barney just tasered someone.” I was horrified. “What? With a taser?” She answered drily, “No, with his cell phone. It’s a new Android app.

On the seventh days she underwent repairs. A machine longs to be used, but it hates to be mishandled. The strain of extreme anal fisting, pony shows and nosecocking tested the limits of her robot durability. But Dr. Hugo Sploogeworthy, flush with renewed funding for Project Ultrafuck, addressed her injuries with a series of upgrades: a harder, more sensitive skin; removable and interchangeable modular genitals in both genders and a variety of pubic hairstyles; a breakaway stunt nose. He also tested other new features requested specifically by the NAFTA military: nipple tasers, supersensitive fingercams, an anal jetpack. The NAFTA leaders dreamed of a robot that could do double duty, killing and copulating, simultaneously if possible. They wanted mass-produced Slutbots, giant-breasted and strong, ten feet tall, armed with cannons, able to double as crowd-control systems when not producing porn or fellating members of Congress. They wanted Slutbots that could mint money and mine coal, fulfill erotic fantasies and survive a nuclear winter. As society crumbled in their fists, the leaders grew paranoid. Sex and power were their simple needs, and in the golden age of robotics they expected Slutbot and her kin to take care of all the messy details.

drenched purse off one shoulder, whipped down the side zipper, and reached for her Taser.

Here’s the thing about close combat in real life: It’s almost always over in a matter of seconds. Not like in the movies, where your hero has the luxury to strategize and maneuver and grapple for minutes on end. Fortunately, when your life is in danger, your brain kicks in. Deep inside your brain this little almond-shaped gland called the amygdala sends out the signal to make your body start pumping out dopamine and adrenaline and cortisol. Time seems to slow, your focus sharpens, you suddenly start perceiving way more stimuli than normal. Neurologists call this tachypsychia. Everyone else calls it the fight-or-flight response. Cavemen who didn’t have it got eaten by saber-toothed tigers. So I made a quick decision. I could either be incapacitated by a Taser, or I could put myself within the reach of Bondarchuk’s fists. No choice.

It finally had to. I understood that it wouldn’t be easy, it would be very hard; I’d need to resist the habit I had developed long ago – with conviction. I’d have to be impolite, an inconvenience, and sometimes awkward. But if I could commit, all that discomfort would add up to zap predatory threats like a Taser gun. I’d stun them. They’d bow to me. I’d let my no echo against the mountains.

TASER is an acronym for Thomas A. Swift’s Electric Rifle,

I'd have to be impolite, an inconvenience, and sometimes awkward. But if I could commit, all that discomfort would add up to zap predatory threads like a Taser gun. I'd stun them. They'd bow to me. I'd let my no echo against the mountains. And better to feel bad for a moment saying no—and stop it—than to get harmed. I would take better care. That small word, no. I'd see its deity.

Thank you for your opinion, but please note that I did not request it. When and if I desire your advice, I will ask you for it directly. Until then? I’m good to go.” Then, if they keep on keeping on: “You have now entered an Asshole-Free Zone. You are puncturing my Shut The Fuck Up bubble and violating my personal airspace. As such, you are diminishing my tolerance for people who don’t know when to keep their noses on their faces instead of up other people’s asses. If you continue down this path, I will be forced to Taser you in the nipples. Each nipple. In turn. One after the other. Bzzt, and then bzzt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go continue creating awesome shit while you sit here dreaming about tearing awesome shit down. Please enjoy a pair of rigidly up-thrust middle fingers as I walk away unflinchingly, like an action star slow-mo walking from an exploding building, except instead of a burning building, I’m walking away from a flaming pile of human excrement. Boom.

There is a rational part of my brain and it says, Don't zap them, Warren. Ask questions first, find out who they are and why they're here, on your doorstep, lurking, banging. Find out their hopes and dreams. Offer them a glass of water. And that part of my brain has control of my left hand, which is holding the doorknob. The right hand fucking zaps the crackhead.

If one has never personally experienced war, one cannot understand in what the difficulties constantly mentioned really consist, nor why a commander should need any brilliance and exceptional ability. Everything looks simple; the knowledge required does not look remarkable, the strategic options are so obvious that by comparison the simplest problem of higher mathematics has an impressive scientific dignity. Once war has actually been seen the difficulties become clear; but it is extremely hard to describe the unseen, all-pervading element that brings about this change of perspective. ~Carl von Clausewitz 1   -          Why did you make that decision officer? -          Why did you go in the front door, instead of the back or side? -          Why did you not have the subject come outside to you? -          Why instead did you not set up a perimeter, containing the adversary and attempt to negotiate? -          Why did you do a face to face negotiation, with the subject armed with a knife, you know that is dangerous, don’t you? -          Did you have to take him down with force? -          Why didn’t you talk him out, use OC spray or taser him instead? -          Why didn’t you take a passenger side approach on that car stop? -          Why did you walk up on the vehicle to engage instead of having the subject walk back to you? -          Why didn’t you see the gun, weren’t you watching deadly hands? -          Couldn’t you have chosen another option? -          What in the hell were you thinking? -          The bad guy had a gun why didn’t you shoot? -          Why didn’t you wait for back-up? -          You knew something bad was happening there, why, did you wait, for back-up? -          Why didn’t you do this or do that?   These are all questions anyone who has been in law enforcement for any amount of time and has experienced a violent encounter has been asked or has even asked himself.  We law enforcement professionals what/if, if/then, or when/then ourselves so much in an effort to prepare and become more effective on the streets you cannot help but question the decisions we make. This questioning and reviewing of our decisions is, in the aftermath of an encounter helpful to us. This process of review known as an AAR or decision making critique teaches us valuable lessons helping us to adapt more effective methods and tactics to apply on the street.  BUT when in the heat of the moment, face to face with an adversary second guessing ourselves can be dangerous and risk lives, our own, and to those we are there to assist.

Candles and waterproof matches.” “Check.” “Weather radio, flashlight, batteries…” “Check, check, check…” “Hurricane-tracking chart, potable water, freeze-dried food, can opener, organic toilet paper, sensible clothes, upbeat reading material, baseball gloves, compass, whistle, signal mirror, first-aid kit, snake-bite kit, mess kit, malaria tablets, smelling salts, flints, splints, solar survival blanket, edible-wild-plant field almanac, trenching tool, semaphores, gas masks, Geiger counter, executive defibrillator, railroad flares, lemons in case of scurvy, Austrian gold coins in case paper money becomes scoffed at, laminated sixteen-language universal hostage-negotiation ‘Kwik-Guide’ (Miami-Dade edition), extra film, extra ammunition, firecrackers, handcuffs, Taser, pepper spray, throwing stars, Flipper lunch box, Eden Roc ashtray, Cypress Gardens felt pennant, alligator snow globe, miniature wooden crate of orange gumballs, acrylic seashell thermometer and pen holder, can of Florida sunshine…” “Check, check, check…. What about my inflatable woman?

Your birthday gift to me is to place me in the middle of an art heist so that I can taser someone?

She’d be surprised if Vaughn followed her again. After all, “leave me the fuck alone” didn’t get much more obvious than nailing a guy in the balls and tasering his friend.

DEC 18 MAYBE WE REALLY are alone in the galaxy. The heroes and villains of Star Wars: The Force Awakens sure seem to be. Although we’ve only seen flashes of actual footage from next December’s journey into that other universe, it’s interesting to note that director J.J. Abrams chose to introduce the first new characters in moments of isolation and desperation. Consider John Boyega as Finn, the scared, sweaty stormtrooper trying to make an escape in the desert. Or Daisy Ridley’s Rey, riding solo (no pun intended) in her Taser-shaped speeder across a similarly blighted

Deputy Ennis Dickhead tipped back his stupid hat and smirked at me. “Hello, Bailey.” “What do you want?” “I came to talk to your friend here. Just wondering if he’d seen his dad?” Nick showed no reaction, but I was pissed to have an asshole ruining my good mood. “If his dad was smart, he’d have run the fuck away once out of jail.” Dickhead tried intimidating Nick with a dark glare. When that didn’t work, he focused on me. “Bailey, I want to talk to you alone.” “No way. Nick and I are going home to have lots of sex. Now go away.” “Why are you slumming it with this loser?” Dickhead asked, poking his thumb at Nick. “You’ve got options and here you are settling.” “Fuck the hell off, asshole!” I yelled, gaining the attention of a lot of people who immediately looked away when I glared at them. Focusing my rage back on Dickhead, I growled, “You need to learn your place, loser. The only time I was slumming it was when I dated a rent-a-cop.” “Listen here, bitch...” I never saw Nick move. One moment, he was a few feet away, looking passive then his fist made contact with Dickhead’s face. The cop toppled back against his car as Nick stood in front of me. Since he looked hotter than sin, I wanted to feel him up. I was thinking naughty thoughts when Darling forced his cuffs on Nick’s wrists and shoved him against the car. “I guess I’m the one who gets restrained this time,” Nick said, trying to keep the moment light. Dickhead was going to ruin Nick’s chances at teaching and I refused to allow anyone to steal my man’s dream. Love made people do weird shit and I was no exception. The Taser from Dickhead’s belt felt good in my hand as I aimed it at his ass. The idiot cop didn’t even realize I’d stolen his weapon until the volts surged through his system. My ex-nobody fell to the ground and twitched. A cuffed Nick stepped back and looked between Dickhead and the Taser. “He wet himself,” I said to Nick. “I see that. Now what? You just assaulted a cop.” “So did you.” “True. We’re both fucked.” “No way,” I muttered. “He attacked me and I was defending myself.” “You shot him in the ass with that thing. I don’t know how you make self-defense stick, babe.” “What a pessimist,” I said, digging the keys out of Dickhead’s pocket. “Let’s throw on some Jerry Reed and race home like the cops are on our asses.” “They might be soon enough,” Nick said, rubbing his wrists before cupping my face. “My hero.

Oh my God. I didn't. I couldn't have. No. no, no. Holy Crap, I did. I just shot Jason Pierce in the chest with a taser.

Genetically modified super-piranhas carrying tasers and bullwhips, galloping on man-eating tigers.

If King hadn’t kicked Blaze off me, I would have managed to get the taser I knew fell under the broken table and shocked the shit outda his black ass. “Peaches,

It was against the law to Taser someone in the head because it would have them in a vegetable state for the rest of their life or kill them.

I wanted to be a spy,” Olga said, shrugging. “I applied to the CIA. I was turned down. I did not meet the psychological profile. Oppositional Defiance Disorder. Basically, I have a hard time taking orders from idiots.” “Don’t think of me as an idiot and I won’t give you an idiotic order,” Sophia said. “But if I give you one, you’d better do it. Because it’s probably going to mean surviving or dying.” “You I don’t mind,” Olga said. “Or I wouldn’t have joined your crew. Don’t ask me about Nazar. So I was in Spain with the troupe. When the Plague hit, they shut down travel. And all my guns were in America. In a zombie apocalypse. I was quite upset.” “You should have seen Faith when they told her she had to be disarmed in New York,” Sophia said. “Then they gave her a taser and that was mistake. What kind of guns?” “I like that your family prefers the AK series,” Olga said. “I really do think it’s superior to the M16 series in many ways. Much more reliable. They say it is less accurate but that is at longer ranges. The round is not designed for long range.” “I can hit at a thousand meters with my accurized AK,” Sophia said. “It’s a matter of knowing the ballistics. It’s not real powerful at that range, but try doing the same thing with an M4. I’ll wait.” “Oh, jeeze, you two,” Paula said. “Get a room.” “So continue with how you got on the yacht,” Sophia said. “We don’t want our cook getting all woozy with gun geeking.” “We were called by the agency and asked if anyone wanted to ‘catch a ride’ on a yacht,” Olga said. “When they said who owned the boat… I nearly said no. We all knew Nazar. Or at least of him. Not a nice man, as you might have noticed. We knew what we were getting into. But then we were told he had vaccine… ” she shrugged again. “Accepting Nazar’s offer was perhaps not the worst decision I have made in my life. I survived. Not how I would have preferred to survive, but I was vaccinated and I survived. But I did not even hint that I knew more about his men’s weapons than they did. They were pigs. Tough guys. But none of them were military and none of them really knew what they were doing with them. When they brought out the RPG, I nearly peed myself. Irinei had no idea what he was doing with it. I don’t think he even knew the safety was off.” “You know how to use an RPG?” Sophia said. “My family liked the United States very much,” Olga said, sadly. “We all like guns and anything that goes boom. And in the US, you could find people who had licenses for anything. I’ve fired an RPG, yes.” “Well, if we find an RPG you can have it,” Sophia said. “Oh, thank you, captain!” Olga said, clapping her hands girlishly. “But we’ll be keeping the rounds and the launcher separate,” Sophia said. “Oh, my, yes,” Olga said. “And both will have to be in a well sealed container. This salt air would cause corrosion quickly.” “I guess you miss your guns?” Paula said. “That’s not a request for an inventory and loving description of each, by the way. Got that enough from Faith.” “I do,” Olga said. “But I miss my books more.” “Books,” Paula said. “Now you’re talking my language.” “I have more books than shelves,” Olga said. “And I had many shelves. I collect old manuscripts when I can afford them.” “If we do any land clearance, look in the libraries and big houses,” Sophia said. “I bet around here you can probably pick up some great stuff.” “This is okay?” Olga said. “We can, salvage?” “If there’s time and if we clear the town,” Sophia said. “Sure.” “Oh, thank you, captain!” Olga said, kissing her on the cheek. “Okay, now you definitely need to get a room.

Setting tasers to STUN!

She reached into her suitcase and pulled out a pink taser. “How in the world did you get that through security?” “I am the ultimate at packing. Plus, it looks like a part for my computer.” She smiled and aimed the taser around the room. As Ruby pointed her taser, Christina’s door burst open. Dex stomped through. Ruby screamed and pulled the trigger. Before Dex could say anything, the taser darts hit him in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground screaming. “Oh my god! Dex, are you alright?” “Tell…her…to…turn…it…off!” he managed to get out. “Ruby! Turn it off. Hurry up!” “I’m trying. I can’t figure out how to turn it off!” she yelled. “What the hell is going on in here?” Jude’s voice came from the door. He looked down at a squirming Dex. Then at Ruby and Christina struggling to turn the taser off. “We are trying to shut this stupid thing off,” Christina yelled. Jude stepped over Dex, took the taser and flipped the power switch, then handed it back to Ruby. “I was getting there,” Ruby mumbled and knelt down to help Dex take the barbs out.

Kneeling, my knee digs into his back as I take the Taser out of his hand. He tries to hold on, but bitch, please. I wrestle it free and throw it on the couch.

Meddy,” Second Aunt breathes. “You have Taser?” I can’t help cringing as I nod. Here it comes. They’re going to— “Can we see?” Second Aunt says. Huh? “Wah, wonder what model you got,” Big Aunt says.

There was nothing quite like that first scream, so said Alfred, who likened it to the initial gurgling sip of wine on the palate of an expert. But the last bit was important, too, and to get at that, he had to keep screaming. He had only one rule: Don’t interact. His job was simply and only to scream and await the Something Happens Phase—“something” usually taking the form of a physical incursion. Alfred had been slapped, punched, tossed out doors onto sidewalks; had a rug thrown over his head, an orange wedged into his mouth, and a shot of anesthesia administered without his consent. He’d been Tasered, billy-clubbed, and arrested for disturbing the peace. He’d spent eight separate nights in jail. About thirty seconds after Alfred’s first scream, the Avis bus veered to the curb and the driver, a tall African-American man, parted the flailing crowd and strode to the back. Alfred braced for physical confrontation, being guilty of prejudice about Black men and violence despite a passionate belief that he was free of it. But the driver, whose name patch read “Kinghorn,” fixed upon Alfred the laparoscopic gaze of a surgeon teasing muscle from bone as prelude to excising a tumor. His invasive scrutiny prompted a discovery for Alfred: Being studied, while screaming, was actually more uncomfortable than being thrown or punched or kicked. And that discovery yielded a second: Physical assaults, while painful, gave him a way to end his uninterrupted screaming. Which led to a third discovery: Screaming is not uninterrupted. In order to scream, one must breathe; in order to breathe, one must inhale; and in order to inhale, one must interrupt one’s screaming. “Did someone hurt this man?” Mr. Kinghorn inquired sharply

Animals can’t help how they look. They shouldn’t hafta suffer for it.

I sleep good every night, pencil dick” Meatloaf barked.

Nevertheless, making up twisted stories was what she was all about, and really, the only thing she was good at. As well as keeping something from others is also what she was about to. Then one day it all changed, I got a knock on my front door, and by the time I got there, the woman was gone. They're sitting on my doorstep as my granddaughter… there she was alive in my sight. She was seven years old at that time; I recall that she was completely nude crying on my porch, and all she had on was Lily’s other childhood ribbon in her hair. Then when I saw the ribbon, I knew what happened. Then she leaped into my arms, and it was love for me from that point on! I remember that Kristen had smashed fingers, and cut up legs, they used a taser gun on her… as well as her butt and vulva were bleeding from being chewed, fondled, and penetrated repeatedly. She was sold many times by Ava and was used as a slave for others' thrills. She had to have virginity restoration surgery to regain her innocence so that someday she can be deflowered to whom she wants. She was only seven years old when the doctors put her under to do that, yet it was the right thing to do, for her. The doctor, Dr. Fennel, said that he never saw anything like what he saw with her in his whole time in practice. I did not care how much it cost, I knew what it was like to have that taken away and I did not want that for her to go through in her life.

Which happens. Alexander has accidentally shot me with a Taser several times.” “He did?” Dad asked, surprised. “I told you he wasn’t a good spy,” Erica said.

>Taser: Yep. I SAYS NO WORRIES.

That said, it’s important to remember that accidents happen, especially when children are too young to understand the consequences of their actions. While it may seem extreme at first, we recommend that parents, caregivers, and teachers of Hollow children always keep some form of compliance weapon on hand. Visit our website for exclusive deals on child-safe tasers, pepper spray, and stun batons—the humane way to wrangle your hungry little one. —Excerpt from Your Hollow Child and You: A Guide to Strange Appetites