Today, of course, that seems horrible to even discuss. I mean, shootings aren't something to be taken lightly. They happen.
But today, if I had an imaginary Taser and only enough zapping power to incapacitate one person, it would be a close race as to who would be left twitching on the ground.
I am a complete Mrs. Crankypants, and several colleagues have had perfectly normal and reasonable requests which at the moment struck me as so abnormal and unreasonable that my blood pressure spiked precipitously. Then I realized that I was being a crankypants and calmed down, but in that one moment, hoo-eeeee.
I mentioned this to one of the Boys in a chat, and he cautioned me against doing anything untoward.
"You know, don't you, that if you're willing to spend your one tase on several different people you're probably treating them in a way that they're more than willing to spend their one bullet on you?"
He was, of course, right on target (so to speak) so don't be surprised if you come upon me later in the afternoon, my bullet-riddled body slumped beside the open door of a 1932 Packard a la Bonnie Parker.
I probably deserved it.