Getting a cannon is SUCH a good idea. The other day I ran into the middle of the street out front of my house to yell at cars. One driver shrugged at me, but he had to nearly stop so as not to run me down, which was a bit of an oblique reaction that almost made me laugh, but I was still furious so instead I kept yelling. After I went back in the house I had adrenaline and was obliged to pace for approximately one hour, during which time I thought about weapons, and how enhanced the yelling would be if I had something well-tooled and menacing to wave around while doing it. Of course, I live in Puritania, so I would probably get hanged and then locked up for expressing my social criticisms with such enthusiasm, and then Fishy, my unicorn, would have to go the SPCA, and he finds strangers ridiculous, and the SPCA is already very crowded, so he’d have to go live in some administrator’s office and sleep under the desk, which he wouldn’t like at all unless they had lots and lots of books to read (which I doubt they would, because they are always too busy with the rescuing, feeding, and fixing of disenfranchised creatures, due to the fact that the vast majority of citizens here lack imagination when it comes to housing non-human species and are, instead, primarily concerned about how to vanquish the flower-eating deer from their gardens so they can enjoy their pork-blood cake on the lawn in peace and keep their children safe from the wild animals and homeless people who are invading our town with their diseases and shopping carts). A cannon, though–much stealthier.