“You seriously need to find something better than a baseball bat.”
Glancing at the bat in the backseat of his car, Keegan shrugged and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Even with his headlights on the road in front was hard to make out in the darkness, not leaving him in the mood to argue with his friend when the next deer that decided to hop onto the highway could spell disaster for the boys. “What’s wrong with the bat?” he asked after a moment of silence, switching on cruise control without taking his eyes off the road, “I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas. Plus, the bat works. Have you ever been murdered? No. Have I ever been murdered? No. What murderer’s gonna fuck with us when they know one wrong move means they’re gonna end up with a face-full of baseball bat? None of the smart ones, that’s a fact.” He paused, then, something occurring to him to trump this line of thought. “Maybe I should get a gun. I would look sweet with a semi-automatic pistol in my hands.”
