by Damon Dust

Taking a shot of pepper spray to the face for the first time is enough to send anyone to their knees crying. Believe me, I was there. My first time was, of course, a total case of misinterpretation. You see, she thought my hand was intentionally rested…well, I digress, as my real point here is that I now have a complete tolerance to pepper spray.

It didn’t happen overnight. I think I must have been sprayed 25 or 30 times before even beginning to feel the effects to a lesser degree, but it’s a liberating feeling knowing women can no longer cripple me with a mere canister of concentrated chili peppers for absolutely no good reason. You may be asking how someone could even be pepper sprayed 25 times. (In fact, I said I felt less pain after 25 times, whereas total invulnerability occurred around episode 40.) Well, I’m not really sure how to explain the cosmos and all, but certain people just seem to have a lot of misunderstandings following them around, and I guess I'm one of those unlucky few.

Now, not all of these incidents occurred out of mix-ups with women; many times it has been the police who, in their best intentions for public safety, but nevertheless painfully erroneously, showered me with the tear-inducing agent. I get the feeling a lot of bona fide troublemakers look very much like I do in a crowd of rioters, and it is I who often feel the brunt of the law’s spicy punishment for their misdeeds.

So you can imagine my delight at my immunity to the source of so much pain, a pain that became common when these unpleasant incidents began occurring eight months ago. Yes, it is much better walking around town worry-free, assured overreacting, pepper-spraying women and police can’t bother me. More great news is that I’m pretty sure my tolerance to tasers is close to 50 percent now, which will also help to curb future unjust pain.