He always carried a hatchet on his belt, prominently displayed. He had a lot of problems in public, but he insisted it was a tool and nothing more. He had to get an open carry license, even though he didn’t own a gun, just the chopper.
He only used it once, opening the locked door of a public restroom where a man was having a heart attack.
His wife hugged him as they carried the man out. “He would’ve died if you hadn’t had that weapon on you.”
“It’s not a weapon,” he replied. “It’s my small axe of kindness.”

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