Cup-hilted cutlasses, Arkansas toothpicks,
loaded bandanas and hardwood kalí sticks,
t-ball bats studded with galvanized bling:
these are a few of my favorite things.
Tomahawks, assegais, bolos, and sabres
may make a mess, but they won't wake the neighbors.
Wolf heads and eagles on big pewter rings:
these are a few of my favorite things.
Cleavers right out of an Icelandic saga,
maybe a dose of latigo y daga,
big nails on both ends of old guitar strings:
these are a few of my favorite things.
Squirt guns loaded with ammonia,
sjambok up the sleeve ...
Or maybe there's something like Queensbury rules
for the terminally naïve.
Oh; seriously? I almost always have some sort of knife on my person, but I've also usually got a stout hickory cane, courtesy of a genuine but infuriatingly unpredictable bum ankle. That cane has a lot more reach than any knife, and very few people seriously want to take a solid thwack from it. I also have some basic training in its use and a bit of kalí that translates reasonably well.
If I'm really concerned about the area, I talk to myself just loudly enough that anyone who actually listens can tell I'm muttering complete gibberish.