Things are not what they seem. For instance, the large Mag-Lite flashlight that stands next to my bed, that’s actually a weapon. It’s huge and hard (don’t worry, I’ll let this one slide) and could really knock someone, i.e, the bad guys, for a loop.
The homestead is full of such things being misused, or if you’re a cockeyed optimist, being used beyond its potential. I only buy overachievers.
The kids have some wooden spoons amongst their playroom fare. Mind you, these items are toys. They were sold and purchased as such. Guess what I use them for. That’s right, spoons. I stir the hell out of some Progresso with those bad boys, and they’re toys! See, that’s the shit I’m talking about.
Of course, the reverse is true as well. For instance, in addition to spoons, the playroom is full of toys of all shapes and sizes that any kid, be they tough kids, sissy kids, or kids who throw rocks, would enjoy. My kids look beyond the obvious. Why use a toy hammer to pound on some blocks when you can achieve a much more palatable din by banging them with a metal fire truck? Those expensive DVD’s that I (thought were) placed out of reach? Those are frisbees, and everyone knows frisbees don’t go in the DVD player, that’s for crayons, and sometimes loose change.
Last night I was the last to go to bed. As is my usual routine, I turned off the television, which left the house dark, and then went about the nightly business of ensuring that all of the doors were locked, the animals were in, and the alarm was set. I did all of this, per usual, using the ambient lighting from my cellphone.
Once I was confident that our home was secure for the night I made the trek down the hall and sat on the edge of the bed. I closed the cellphone with one hand and sat down the weapon I had absentmindedly carried with me the entire time. A weapon that looked suspiciously like a flashlight.