Jack shifts his weight off his walking stick.

An 8.5-inch blade gleams. So this is the respect a pensioner gets.

He squints at the young man with the knife. Punk.

Jack raises his walking stick. “I was a weapons engineer for fifty years. And this is Wally, my homemade 12-gauge.”

Joey doesn’t have a walking stick and if he ever does get one, he probably won’t call it Wally. He can be found at joeytoey.com.