Living, Breathing Martial Arts Weapons!

(August ‘96/#22)

Think about this real life happening the next time you think you need a martial arts weapon.

Many years ago I read about some Hell’s Angels who kept a tiger tied to a tree in their backyard. The narcotics agent who tried to sneak up on them by going through the backyard received a rude surprise.

I thought the story was bogus, until I met one of the Hell’s Angels who had been there. He said the purpose of the tiger was specifically to guard the house where they did drug deals, and they called him ‘Kitty, Kitty.’

Animals, specifically dogs, are great martial artists. They have big teeth and can be lovable companions for your children. Some time ago I bought one of these four footed martial artists. I don’t deal in drugs, but there was a very good reason for me making the animal investment.

I live in LA. I know that’s reason enough, but let me continue.

One night, at about 3 in the morning, I heard a great booming voice in my back yard, “You got to learn!”

Another voice, smaller and timid, responded with, “Please, mister, you got to let me go!”

Have you ever tried to pull on pants when one leg is inside out? I tripped and fell against every damned wall in my house before I made it to the back porch. At that I was in better shape than the fellow who suddenly came rushing out of the darkness. He had nothing on but a tee shirt that was too short!

“Stop!” I yelled as I swung a short staff I had managed to grab on my way out of the house.

He jumped over the fence, nearly mangling his testicles in the process.

I ran down the driveway to cut him off when he tried to exit my neighbor’s driveway, but he had disappeared!

Suddenly I heard him. He was running down the alleyway behind the next apartment building.

Bang! Crash! Splat! Goddamn it! Ow! Bang! He fell over every chair and trash can and fence for 75 feet. Suddenly he jumped out, and there I was, swinging my pole like a madman!

He jumped another fence and ran down Vermont Avenue. I laugh every time I think of him running, nude, balls flapping (excuse me, but that is the best description) down one of the busiest streets in LA.

It turned out that he had grabbed a jar of change for ‘Jerry’s Kids’ at the local 7-11 and hidden in the yard behind mine. The fellow who lived there (a martial artist!) thought he was trying to steal his Harley Davidson and chased him over the fence, during which climb and struggle the fellow lost clothes and ill gotten gains.

So I got myself a ‘burglar biter.’ I got one that weighs 90 pounds, has teeth that would make Jaws envious, and a tongue that licks every kid in sight. I also saved him from the ‘death row’ which is what the pound is for unclaimed animals. Think about that next time you think you need a gun or some other martial arts weapon for protection!

Burglar Biters Rule!