I have a musket to protect my home, as conceived by the founding fathers. Four bullies burst into my house. “What the devil?” I scream, grabbing my powdered wig and Kentucky rifle. I aim and knock a hole the size of a golf ball through the first person, he is in place. I draw a pistol on the second person, but I miss him completely, because this is a neighbor’s smooth-haired and clawing dog. Then I have to resort to a cannon mounted on top of a ladder charged with a shot of grapes. “Tally Ho guys!” I scream when I shoot a pistol! A grape shot tore apart two people as a result of an explosion. Sound and additional shrapnel caused a car alarm nearby. I attach a bayonet to my Kentucky rifle and grab the last scared rapcallion. He is bleeding to await the arrival of the police, since triangular bayonet wounds cannot be sutured. As the founding fathers expected.