Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2003-05-26 01:36 am
azurelunatic) wrote2003-05-26 01:36 am
Good ol' Fuzzy: the Air Tazer
So, back in the day, back in high school, I had a best friend: Fuzzy Modem.
ADHD, by the way. Unmedicated, anymore, except for the pot, which did not exactly help matters.
So, he was taking two electives: pottery, and electronics. (Mr. Johnson, the electronics teacher, was the coolest guy in the universe.)
He'd been making a selection of weapons, which I chose to call The Arsenel of Freedom, after the Next Gen episode, as he was bound to get in trouble with them. He'd made, this time, an air tazer. This was his second go-round with it; he'd blown up a good portion of his desk trying to make the first one. He made the guts of this second one in Electronics, and the casing in pottery.
He got them both done, and decided that the best place to put them together was at lunch, in our usual spot outside the front of the library.
Now, you must understand that the Library Monkeys were not a quiet group of people. We were loud, and often told to chill out or disperse by the Powers that Be. So, when the principal walked by and saw the Library Monkeys sitting in a quiet circle like kindergarteners at storytime, she was naturally curious, and asked the person who seemed to be the ringleader what was going on, what was so interesting.
And Fuzzy started to tell her.
I could tell that he didn't know who she was. She was the principal, and mostly did administrative things and spoke at assemblies (Fuzzy skipped assemblies) and was not involved much in the disciplinary process (Fuzzy got involved in a lot of this). I elbowed him in the ribs. He shoved me back, and continued digging himself deeper.
"That sounds dangerous," she said.
"It would be," he said. "I'd only use it for self-defense."
She beckoned to the vice-principal, who was the disciplinary process, and Fuzzy saw his mistake, far too late. I took custody of his backpack and his wire-cutters while he was hauled off to the office.
He and I met up again after class. "How'd it go?" I queried, returning backpack and pliers.
Evidently, it had gone all right. Fuzzy's stepfather, and Mr. Johnson had both been called. Mr. Johnson looked over the air tazer and pronounced that had it been in working order, it would have been quite the delightfully nasty piece of work, but, alas, Fuzzy had wired it wrong. Fuzzy's stepfather nodded sagely, and told Mr. Johnson that he'd help Fuzzy wire it up right at home.
Fuzzy had almost convinced the vice-principal that the thing wasn't dangerous, that the safety was on in any case, when the little charge LED started blinking, which of course meant that the safety was *not* on...
I don't think he ever did use the thing. I never heard about it after that.
ADHD, by the way. Unmedicated, anymore, except for the pot, which did not exactly help matters.
So, he was taking two electives: pottery, and electronics. (Mr. Johnson, the electronics teacher, was the coolest guy in the universe.)
He'd been making a selection of weapons, which I chose to call The Arsenel of Freedom, after the Next Gen episode, as he was bound to get in trouble with them. He'd made, this time, an air tazer. This was his second go-round with it; he'd blown up a good portion of his desk trying to make the first one. He made the guts of this second one in Electronics, and the casing in pottery.
He got them both done, and decided that the best place to put them together was at lunch, in our usual spot outside the front of the library.
Now, you must understand that the Library Monkeys were not a quiet group of people. We were loud, and often told to chill out or disperse by the Powers that Be. So, when the principal walked by and saw the Library Monkeys sitting in a quiet circle like kindergarteners at storytime, she was naturally curious, and asked the person who seemed to be the ringleader what was going on, what was so interesting.
And Fuzzy started to tell her.
I could tell that he didn't know who she was. She was the principal, and mostly did administrative things and spoke at assemblies (Fuzzy skipped assemblies) and was not involved much in the disciplinary process (Fuzzy got involved in a lot of this). I elbowed him in the ribs. He shoved me back, and continued digging himself deeper.
"That sounds dangerous," she said.
"It would be," he said. "I'd only use it for self-defense."
She beckoned to the vice-principal, who was the disciplinary process, and Fuzzy saw his mistake, far too late. I took custody of his backpack and his wire-cutters while he was hauled off to the office.
He and I met up again after class. "How'd it go?" I queried, returning backpack and pliers.
Evidently, it had gone all right. Fuzzy's stepfather, and Mr. Johnson had both been called. Mr. Johnson looked over the air tazer and pronounced that had it been in working order, it would have been quite the delightfully nasty piece of work, but, alas, Fuzzy had wired it wrong. Fuzzy's stepfather nodded sagely, and told Mr. Johnson that he'd help Fuzzy wire it up right at home.
Fuzzy had almost convinced the vice-principal that the thing wasn't dangerous, that the safety was on in any case, when the little charge LED started blinking, which of course meant that the safety was *not* on...
I don't think he ever did use the thing. I never heard about it after that.