Trailer Hitch Of Doom

I find myself obsessed with weapons.

Specifically, making them. I envision weapons in the oddest of objects.

 

Federal law says if I am caught owning or possessing a firearm, I can be imprisoned from five to seven years. I'm pretty skittish about the ex, to put it mildly, so, I find myself in constant find-a-weapon mode.

I wish it wasn't this way. I wish I didn't see innocuous objects as potentials to my building arsenal.

My latest invention was the Trailer Hitch Of Doom.

Walking down the street I found a rusted trailer hitch that had fallen off someones truck. My mind went into MacGuyver mode and I tucked the little gem into my pocket and brought it home.

I started digging through the odds and ends I keep lying around and ran across an old canvas belt and a couple of tattered, old shoelaces.

"PERFECT!" says my brain.

Screw a light bulb, in that second, you probably could have seen the bright lights of Broadway over my head.

So, I sit down and very meticulously weave this trailer hitch into the belt, creating quite the lovely, but rather nasty, swinging device. I went on to make the niftiest little grip that slides over my hand nicely, preventing it from slipping out of my grasp should I ever have need to use it.

I'm not so sure I like seeing everything as a potential ammunition.

I wish a trailer hitch could just be a trailer hitch.

I wish a golf putter could just be a golf putter.

I wish a vase could just be a vase.

But they aren't, so, my cache of homemade armaments grows.

I see myself in my minds eye and what I see is a very paranoid individual.

I wonder if everyone else sees me that way, too.