It has come to my attention that we face a grave crisis in this country. The ease with which clumsy, incompetent yard-oafs such as myself can obtain deadly weapons is staggering. No, I'm not talking about your conventional weapons like pistols, shotguns or tactical nuclear missles, I'm talking about that subset of devices used to tame the most overrun of yards and bushes. Since moving here, I have obtained a number of these items with nary a backround check or even the most rudimentary investigations into my sanity or mental condition. In the hands of someone slightly more unhinged than I, these items could weave a tapesty of destruction across this land. Bear witness to my horticultural arsenal.
Imagine, if you can, a 9 foot long flexible shaft, capable of extending to 14 feet. Take said shaft and attach a 13 inch saw blade on the end of it, right above the hook that hides a springloaded blade capable of taking off a man's finger. Now add a 12 foot long length of cord that's anchored by a half pound piece of wood and you have 14' Compound Action Tree Pruner.
This particular piece of lawn equipment looks less like something you use to trim trees and more like something you get when you face down a mini-boss in your AD&D campaign. In fact, were I to come up with a name and a mythical backstory for my Tree Pruner, it would look something like this:
Horuk, Chakti and Kural were simple farmers who wanted nothing of battle until an evil overlord invaded their lands and demanded that all who lived there swore fealty. Wishing nothing more than to be left alone, the brothers tried to avoid conflict until the overlord raided their village, killing all but the three brothers. Realizing that they were unable to defeat their foe on their own, the brothers prayed to their gods for the power to deliver their lands from oppression. This power came in the form of an idea, that separate they were but simple farmers, but together they were a force to be reckoned with. They challenged the overlord to battle, and the overlord, foolishly thinking he was no match for 3 peasants agreed. If he were to lose, his forces would withdraw forever, if he were to win, the brothers sacrificed their lives. As the battle started, the brothers circled their foe. With a quick strike from Horuk's staff the overlord was caught off balance and forced to focus his attention on Horuk, allowing Chakti to ensnare the overlord with his chain and pull him onto Kural's saw. In a moment the battle was over, the overlord was defeated and nothing remained but repayment to the gods. In a flash of lightning, the brothers were gone, called to the gods they prayed to, but this weapon remained, a testament to the power men can wield when working together.
+3 to hit
1d10 blunt damage
2d4 slashing damage
25% chance of casting Entanglement on successful hit
See! That's some serious shit! At the very least I feel like some sort of mythical warrior as I teach my holly trees just who is boss. At night I can hear their fevered whisperings, as they wonder who will be trimmed on the morrow.
Technically this is a blower and a leaf vacuum, however there's not a lot that's dangerous about a leaf vacuum unless you decide to try and simulate some hickeys and end up pulling your jugular out of your neck. The blower, on the other hand, is a force to be reckoned with.
As we were researching blowers, it would appear that the number one factor into how well your blower can clear yard debris is the speed in which the air will come roaring out of your blower. 240MPH!!!! the boxes all scream. Their leaves must be heavier than my leaves. Perhaps they have cement trees or bedrock bushes, but to clear my leaves you need to go 40, maybe 50 tops. 240 MPH seems a bit excessive. Now, leaves, by themselves won't cause too much of a problem as long as they stay under light speed, but what can cause problems are these spiky horse chestnut things that drop from the trees and promptly harden up to the consistancy of diamond. If given a choice between carrying an M-16 into battle and carrying a 240MPH leaf blower and a bag of death chestnuts, I'll take the deathnuts any time. One shot from my Deathnuts and you'll have a hole in your chest bigh enough to store a loaf of bread in. Granted I need an outlet to keep my blower powered up, but I'm sure there's some sort of backpack generator that the military has come up with. They're smart fellows over there.
A hedger by itself is kind of scary. This one has a battery pack so that I can run rampant over the entire neighborhood for a horrifying 40 minutes before having to recharge for roughly 17 days. This thing is loud, like loud enough to cause startled expressions on small children and it can cut through a 1/4 inch branch like no one's business. What makes this particular hedger even scarier is the person who wields it. Consider these facts. Fact 1: Upon using my super-sharp Santoku blade for the first time, I ran my finger along the blade to remove the chopped carrots, almost removing my finger in the process. Fact 2: I have, on several occasions, cut my leg with the same knife because I wiped it clean on my pants, forgetting the fact that I was wearing shorts instead of pants. Fact 3: I have very little feeling in the tip of my left thumb, the hand that is used to hold whatever I'm chopping, due to the fact that I've repeatedly sliced, chopped and otherwise let blood from it. In fact, now, unless I get a good 1/4 inch cut there, it doesn't even bleed. Take a set of moving, clattering death blades and putting them in my hands is the very definition of lunacy.
You may have noticed that all of these tools are either red, or bright orange as if to unleash primal feelings of rage as I tend to my bushes. The very fact that I have to tend to my bushes gets me angry enough. You throw a screaming orange blower in my hand and I'm going to be looking to tear shit up.
I have mentioned, on many occasions, my concerns regarding my imminent delimbification when pruning to my wife, in the hopes that she would see that I am uniquely unqualified to wield these weapons of mass deforestation but she is singularly unrelenting. Once my Accidental Death and Dismemberment plan comes through, I may have to see what the going price is for losing a finger. That'll teach her a lesson. A five thousand dollar lesson. Cha-ching.