decide if she was scary or spunky. I went with spunky and gave her a friendly wave. She nodded back at me.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a store like this?” Sal asked, sizing me up as he rubbed his chin.
“ Trying to decide between pepper spray and a stun gun. What would you recommend?”
“ Depends on the situation. Do you just want to carry something with you to feel safer when you’re jogging, or do you need to take out an assailant?”
“ Well, um, frankly, Sal,” I confided as I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice, “I seemed to have picked up a stalker somehow and I need some protection.”
He looked at me thoughtfully and folded his arms across his chest. “In that case, what you need is a Taser. If it’s a windy day, pepper spray could blow back on you. A stun gun is nice, but you have to be close enough to touch the slime ball.” I followed him as he led me through the store and stopped in front of a brightly-lit display case.
“ Here’s one you might like,” he said, lifting a demo model out of the case and handing it to me. “It’s safe and friendly, but has more stopping power than a .357 Magnum. It shoots two darts attached to fifteen feet of wire. Fifty-thousand volts travel over the wires and over-ride the attacker’s central nervous system.”
My eyes widened as I listened to his description of the weapon. He noticed my expression and said, “Scary? You bet, but look at the pretty colors it comes in.”
I swallowed hard. “Do I need a permit to buy one?” I asked, handling it gingerly.
“ These babies aren’t considered firearms,” he said. “They’re legal to carry in most states without permits.”
He showed me several options and I finally decided on the TASER C2 in metallic pink. It was pricy, but I bought it because it had great stopping power, and also because it came in pink and matched my Hello Kitty makeup bag.
After I picked out a few more items, Little Sal walked me over to the cash register and Big Sal checked me out. She handed me the receipt, gave me a thumbs up, and told me not to let the assholes get me down. Good advice.
Ret urning home, I nosed my trusty station wagon into my snug garage and shut off the engine. After removing the Taser from its packaging, and retrieving the steak knife from the bottom of my purse, I got out of my car and locked it. In my left hand I gripped the knife, in my right, the Taser. I was loaded for bear.
Cau tiously, I poked my head out of the garage and scoped the parking lot. All seemed clear, and no one followed me into the complex. I’d made certain of that. Feeling reasonably secure, I dashed to the mail box, awkwardly collected my mail, then raced up the stairs and entered my condo in record time. Slipping off my shoes, I readjusted my toe tape, which had slid into a torturous miniature tourniquet around my toes, turned my radio on to the smooth jazz station, and spent a few minutes straightening up.
When everything looked reasonably tidy I positioned the Taser on the table next to my front door and sat down to elevate my foot for a while. The sophisticated strains of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” played softly as I relaxed and mentally made a list of what to wear and bring with me for tomorrow morning’s mission.
Without warning, a loud knock on my front door startled me and I jumped a mile high. Heart hammering, I silently crept over to the door, grabbing my Taser along the way. Squinting through the peephole, I saw a man standing a few feet from the door, but his back was turned to me. I hesitated, decided not to answer it, and softly tiptoed back to my couch.
A voice called out . “Victoria?”
It sounded like Steve from downstairs , so I went back to the door and shouted, “Just a minute, Steve.” Relief washed over me as I unlocked my door and opened it wide, but to my surprise, I found Judah standing there instead.
“ You’re not Steve,” I said.
“ Do you want me to
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a store like this?” Sal asked, sizing me up as he rubbed his chin.
“ Trying to decide between pepper spray and a stun gun. What would you recommend?”
“ Depends on the situation. Do you just want to carry something with you to feel safer when you’re jogging, or do you need to take out an assailant?”
“ Well, um, frankly, Sal,” I confided as I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice, “I seemed to have picked up a stalker somehow and I need some protection.”
He looked at me thoughtfully and folded his arms across his chest. “In that case, what you need is a Taser. If it’s a windy day, pepper spray could blow back on you. A stun gun is nice, but you have to be close enough to touch the slime ball.” I followed him as he led me through the store and stopped in front of a brightly-lit display case.
“ Here’s one you might like,” he said, lifting a demo model out of the case and handing it to me. “It’s safe and friendly, but has more stopping power than a .357 Magnum. It shoots two darts attached to fifteen feet of wire. Fifty-thousand volts travel over the wires and over-ride the attacker’s central nervous system.”
My eyes widened as I listened to his description of the weapon. He noticed my expression and said, “Scary? You bet, but look at the pretty colors it comes in.”
I swallowed hard. “Do I need a permit to buy one?” I asked, handling it gingerly.
“ These babies aren’t considered firearms,” he said. “They’re legal to carry in most states without permits.”
He showed me several options and I finally decided on the TASER C2 in metallic pink. It was pricy, but I bought it because it had great stopping power, and also because it came in pink and matched my Hello Kitty makeup bag.
After I picked out a few more items, Little Sal walked me over to the cash register and Big Sal checked me out. She handed me the receipt, gave me a thumbs up, and told me not to let the assholes get me down. Good advice.
Ret urning home, I nosed my trusty station wagon into my snug garage and shut off the engine. After removing the Taser from its packaging, and retrieving the steak knife from the bottom of my purse, I got out of my car and locked it. In my left hand I gripped the knife, in my right, the Taser. I was loaded for bear.
Cau tiously, I poked my head out of the garage and scoped the parking lot. All seemed clear, and no one followed me into the complex. I’d made certain of that. Feeling reasonably secure, I dashed to the mail box, awkwardly collected my mail, then raced up the stairs and entered my condo in record time. Slipping off my shoes, I readjusted my toe tape, which had slid into a torturous miniature tourniquet around my toes, turned my radio on to the smooth jazz station, and spent a few minutes straightening up.
When everything looked reasonably tidy I positioned the Taser on the table next to my front door and sat down to elevate my foot for a while. The sophisticated strains of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” played softly as I relaxed and mentally made a list of what to wear and bring with me for tomorrow morning’s mission.
Without warning, a loud knock on my front door startled me and I jumped a mile high. Heart hammering, I silently crept over to the door, grabbing my Taser along the way. Squinting through the peephole, I saw a man standing a few feet from the door, but his back was turned to me. I hesitated, decided not to answer it, and softly tiptoed back to my couch.
A voice called out . “Victoria?”
It sounded like Steve from downstairs , so I went back to the door and shouted, “Just a minute, Steve.” Relief washed over me as I unlocked my door and opened it wide, but to my surprise, I found Judah standing there instead.
“ You’re not Steve,” I said.
“ Do you want me to
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