Welcome home

I am always happy to come home to watch four men advance towards me. Even more so when I am carrying a load of grocery's and my golf bag.

Three are chasing after one. Three are armed. The one is not.

I'm not sure what I found more unique about the situation: that one of the three was brandishing a broken liquor bottle (not as frerocious as the knife or baseball bat on the other two) or that I had decided (and had pulled from the bag) to use my four iron to defend myself.

A four iron? Please.