We were besieged by yet another salesman. He was selling this new, powerful, defense spray.
"This product is guaranteed to knock your adversary to his knees," he was blowing, "no matter if he's drunk, high on drugs, or crazy as a monkey on a motorcycle."
"We got that stuff already," I said, "and even when it's new it's doesn't work on most people. And when it gets some age on it, you might as well spray them with milk." It was true. This was just at the advent of defense sprays and they were concocted from tear gas. A good idea but a bad product.
Undeterred, the salesman plowed on. "But sir, this is made from capsicum, chili peppers. Not what you're speaking of."
"You mean like that pepper spray the mail carriers use on dogs? That's no good, either."
"Still not the same thing, this is--"
I was tired of listening to him and decided to embarrass him by showing just how puny his product was. "Okay," I said, "let's give it a field test. We'll go out back and you can spray me with it."
The salesman was aghast. "Spray you? Oh, no, I wouldn't recommend that. No, I wouldn't do that."
Finally I badgered him enough that he gave in. The guy was genuinely trying to protect me but I couldn't see it. Chili peppers? Stuff you can eat? How bad could it be? We'll say it was one of those logical disfunctions that seem like a real good idea at the time.
We went out back, I made ready about ten-feet in front of him and he let go. (I think he used as little more than necessary because I was such an az-hole.) And the next thing I knew I was on my knees, couldn't breath, and my face felt like it had been painted with acid. Some of the worst pain I've ever felt. But, in fifteen-minutes it was over and aside from feeling really dumb, I was fine.
You see, the new amazing product was Cap Stun and let me endorse its effectiveness. Works on most people except an occasion PCP maniac or psychopath. We bought several cases.
The troops, of course, were not satisfied until they'd done their own field tests. It was a bad time to bow up at a cop, all of whom had their finger on the button, looking for an excuse to hose someone down. And on the midnight shift, you couldn't find a possum or armadillo that didn't have their little fists ball up, rubbing their eyes.
"This product is guaranteed to knock your adversary to his knees," he was blowing, "no matter if he's drunk, high on drugs, or crazy as a monkey on a motorcycle."
"We got that stuff already," I said, "and even when it's new it's doesn't work on most people. And when it gets some age on it, you might as well spray them with milk." It was true. This was just at the advent of defense sprays and they were concocted from tear gas. A good idea but a bad product.
Undeterred, the salesman plowed on. "But sir, this is made from capsicum, chili peppers. Not what you're speaking of."
"You mean like that pepper spray the mail carriers use on dogs? That's no good, either."
"Still not the same thing, this is--"
I was tired of listening to him and decided to embarrass him by showing just how puny his product was. "Okay," I said, "let's give it a field test. We'll go out back and you can spray me with it."
The salesman was aghast. "Spray you? Oh, no, I wouldn't recommend that. No, I wouldn't do that."
Finally I badgered him enough that he gave in. The guy was genuinely trying to protect me but I couldn't see it. Chili peppers? Stuff you can eat? How bad could it be? We'll say it was one of those logical disfunctions that seem like a real good idea at the time.
We went out back, I made ready about ten-feet in front of him and he let go. (I think he used as little more than necessary because I was such an az-hole.) And the next thing I knew I was on my knees, couldn't breath, and my face felt like it had been painted with acid. Some of the worst pain I've ever felt. But, in fifteen-minutes it was over and aside from feeling really dumb, I was fine.
You see, the new amazing product was Cap Stun and let me endorse its effectiveness. Works on most people except an occasion PCP maniac or psychopath. We bought several cases.
The troops, of course, were not satisfied until they'd done their own field tests. It was a bad time to bow up at a cop, all of whom had their finger on the button, looking for an excuse to hose someone down. And on the midnight shift, you couldn't find a possum or armadillo that didn't have their little fists ball up, rubbing their eyes.
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