GOING HOME, UGLY STICK IN HANDYou start in the sporting goods store, testing one wooden bat after another until you find one that feels good and sturdy. Heavy. A few practice swings tell you the weight is just fine. Some electrical tape wrapped around the neck, and it’ll hold up good. At least for a few good whacks.
You pay for the bat and visit the hardware store to get nails. Good ones. Big, gleaming, f**k-you nails. The box costs a few bucks, the hammer and tape a few more. Everything goes in the passenger seat, and you head for home.
Two glasses of whiskey later, you hammer the last of the nails into the bat’s head. If it wasn’t a weapon before, it sure as hell is now. A real ugly stick. The black spiral of tape at its neck blurs as you swing, really swing, putting everything you’ve
