Spear

A few years ago I was helping to run a pub in Surrey by mistake. As well as the usual fun of serving beer to customers and chasing goats around, there were also lodgers to contend with being mainly builders from nearby construction jobs, and this meant that during the week, all rooms upstairs would be full of sweaty, grubby chaps clamouring for the one bathroom when they got in from work before heading downstairs to drink the bar dry and cause as much mayhem as possible before grudgingly going back to their pits. Although they brought in extra cash, they were a headache I could have done without as they were often lewd when drunk and away from the wives and family and in an all bloke environment, and although they never meant any harm, it was a hassle I didn't need keeping them in check.
Around this time, the then-partner-in-crime and I had started going along to our Viking/Saxon re-enactment thingy, and whenever we got the chance would load up my car with kit including kirtles, shields and spears. Big, 6' pointy spears, which although 'dead bladed' are very impressive when wielded in the correct manner.
Packing the car meant that we had to carry said gear through the bar, and it was always a laugh when newcomers spotted the fact we were 'tooled up' and possibly dangerous.
We got plenty of comments and many questions as to what the fuc heck we were up to, and we usually explained patiently what we got up to over the weekends*
Normally the lodgers weren't around when we were going, as on a Friday they all buggered off back home for the weekend, and so it was a surprise for one of them who was staying over, to come down to the bar and see the TPIC polishing his helmet** in readiness for battle.
He asked what he was doing, and as he seemed genuinely interested, was treated to the full kit show, including of course the spears.
The lodger was very impressed and said that he had rather a passion for metal work, and had turned his shed into a workroom to try and make stuff. Would I be interested in another spear if he made one? he asked, to which I replied, 'Of course!'
I didn't think any more of it over the next week or so, and assumed that he'd forgotten all about his offer, but lo, one Monday afternoon, he turned up at the pub for the week carrying a rather impressive spear that he'd fashioned from an old tarmacking rake.
It wasn't 'perfect' and wouldn't ever have been classed as a 'Viking replica', but he'd done a very good job and even added an old broom handle as a shaft. I thought it wonderful, and thanked him profusely for the gift.
His workmates spotted the spear and asked what I was going to use it for, so I sweetly explained that I was going to hit people with it. As they all seemed rather too eager to try hitting people with it themselves, I placed my new toy behind the bar for safety.
The afternoon turned to evening, and another group of lodgers arrived to settle into their digs for the week. I wasn't so keen on the group, as they had all the usual 'builders charms', but were rather more difficult to herd back to their rooms at closing time. I sighed heavily as I watched them traipse up the stairs to fight for the shower, knowing that I was in for a long night should they get too drunk.
Anyway, back in the bar the spearmaker asked me if he could show the spear to his mates again, and I agreed but kept a careful eye on it. They were playing nicely with it until some of the less salubrious of the regulars came in and started eyeing it up.
I decided it was for the best to go and put the spear under lock and key with the others, and trotted off up the stairs to my room.
I was in a hurry as the bar was unattended, and didn't notice the semi-naked builder who was hurrying down the stairs to the bathroom.
Luckily for him, my reflexes are quick and I stopped a couple of millimeters short of impaling him in the 'family jewels'.
'Oops, sorry about that!' I chirruped as I dashed past, pausing only to notice his face had turned extremely pale under the layer of grime from the site.
For some strange reason that group of lodgers were more subdued than usual after that. Come closing time all I had to do was smile and say it was time to go, and they all went without a fuss, although I'm certain I heard a mutter of 'Don't argue, she's got a fu*king spear!'
I keep that spear in my bedroom nowadays.

*No, I don't throw the spear at people, I hit them with it.
** A metal, Viking helmet. Get your minds out of the gutter.

Additional: Today is my 'Half Birthday', woohoo! *cough*Plz to note Wish List on sidebar*cough*