Ok, so it may be a gimic, but I love this thing I found while shopping for Xmas presents for my cousin. Why this was on a gift list for men ages 30-40, I'll never know, but who cares:
"Unleash potassium-rich projectile warfare with the insidious potato pellet gun! Punch the barrel into a standard-issue potato, break off a pellet and bring it! Mostly harmless, the potato gun can shoot pellets up to 50 feet. Potato not included." $5.95
This poem is a poem about people behaving strangely. Why they are compelled to do it, who they are, what the results of the attack are, that's up to you, but I love the idea of an adult picking something totally innocuous and making a weapon out of it. Of course, by itself, a thrown potato could be pretty dangerous. It's like, potato cannon, light. So maybe I would think of something actually dangerous and then the weapon would be something related to it. My little sister once hit me in the eye with a dirty shoe, so maybe I would attack her at her wedding with a rolled up tube sock.
It's a nice little narrative to break up a tense scenario, like serving divorce papers, or finding your sister in the sack with your husband. Something like that.