I have been asked many a time by people I know in real life and on here if I am serious when I say baseball bats are my weapon of choice.
Fuck yes they are. I would, in full confidence bring a baseball bat to a gun fight. Moving targets are hard to hit, I was a sprinter in high school, and moving targets that are bashing your skull in are even harder to hit. Sure I have stellar aim with a gun, but I fully support gun control laws, and many of them would not let a bipolar, anxious, panic-prone individual like me own a gun. But a baseball bat? No fucking problem.
Hell, you can pick up a metal one that makes a nice ping when you smack it. You can buy those wooden ones too and jack them up. Go to town on it with a box cutter so the mother fucker you’re whacking walks away with huge ass sprinters. Drive nails through that thing for special occasions. Wrap that fucker in barbed wire. Heck, I’ve had a buddy sand his down and soak it in gasoline for a week and then go into a fight and light it on fire. Risky to you, yes, but damn near guaranteed to get anyone threatening you running? FUCK yes.
I will never understand why society abandoned clubs as a weapon for hand to hand combat. You can run me through with a sword and sure, I’ll probably die eventually. But a baseball bat, something infinitely cheaper, can be deadly with a single blow.
Now I’m not encouraging violence by any means. But, I will say this. Don’t punch a nazi. Don’t punch a pedophile. Don’t punch a rapist. Take a pimped up baseball bat straight to their cranium.
Simon gets the surprise of his life when his roommate, Baz, asks him to
pretend to be his boyfriend. Everything is going according to plan until
the line of what’s real and what isn’t starts to blur, and they both
have to make a decision.