All I want for Christmas this year is my very own sword. I’d like a replica of Narsil from Lord of the Rings (after it’s been reforged, of course) but I’d settle for any old sword.

Now, before you think I’ve become one of those crazy guys who dress up in tights and go to Renaissance Fairs to pretend that I’m some glory hound from the days of yesteryear, I should clarify. My sword would be a practical device.

I’m not one for guns, but I want to protect my family. So, I’d keep the sword sheathed under my bed and if anyone broke in I’d come charging down the stairs, sword drawn, yelling, “Back ye forces of darkness lest I send your souls to the gates of Hell!”

The criminal element would then flee, despite the fact that they are better armed. After all, could they match a guy bearing a sword and wearing Mickey Mouse slippers? No.

And then, when they met up at their yearly convention they’d attend a round-table discussion on defense against homeowners. They’d say, “Stay away from this O’Brien guy. He’s nuts. He has a sword.”

Ooh. Maybe I’ll douse it in lighter fluid and set it ablaze. They’d think I was the Arch Angel Michael come to take their souls.

This has definite potential.