With God as my witness, a completely true story ... Newlyweds move into our neighborhood, husband has a sales route that takes him out of town frequently; wife is a stay-at-home type, petite, quiet, a little mousy if truth be told. She's worried about staying at home alone, glad to know a policeman (that's me) lives close by. I suggest maybe some home protection; she says no, not because she doesn't like guns, but she reasons that if she draws and the goof calls her bluff, she can't pull the trigger. So I recommend an aluminum baseball bat. Whaddaya know, she says, hubby has one, he plays on a softball team. Okay then, put it under your bed. Three nights -- yes, ''three nights'' -- later, I come home at two a.m. and as usual, I case the neighborhood before I retire. Their back gate is open, so I inspect more closely and find their sliding glass door is off its track. I draw, I call in, and I move in. There's blood everywhere, and I think, oh boy this is not good. But then I see mousy wife holding an ''extremely'' bloody softball bat, like a samurai sword. I look around some more and I see what looks like a big pile of ketchup on the floor. This little hausfrau, five-foot-two tops, beat the intruder to a -- no, it was worse than a bloody pulp. I have seen the aftermath of so-called "mob justice", and no one dished out a beat-down like her. But you know what? Word gets out. Petty criminals and ne'er-do-wells give this house a ''very'' wide berth. And maybe that's a good thing.

I sleep with an aluminum baseball bat next to my bed. Because you never know when you'll need it.

You wouldn't happen to be me, would you? Because this troper does the same thing.

This troper keeps his bats in his room. Both the aluminum and wood. Fun to play with, but you never know either.

I've discovered first hand that the knob at the end of then handle can just just as effective as the business end.

You'd also never know when a burglar can sneak into your room, take said bats, and bludgeon you with them. Might want to keep them a bit out of sight.

This troper has taken it one step further and put ''nails'' into his teeball bat. Took a helluva long time to do. Now, if he could just find some barbed wire...

I used to live in a relatively bad neighborhood, so one night when the people across the street (who incidentally were dealing) started causing problems, my dad - who was around 100 pounds and recovering from a neck surgery - came outside with a pinata bat and said Time to go to bed. Lame, but effective.