Back From Monster Bludgeoning

I've got a message for William Q. Richards of Will's Wacky Weapons Emporium & Spa:

YOU SON OF A BITCH. That "genuine Native American tomahawk" you sold me broke after one swing. I don't know if you were aware, but I was fighting a goddamn burrito monster at the time; I didn't need the additional stress of having to do it with a wooden stick. As the lovely little abomination was preparing to digest my face, I threw the stick, which thankfully hit the shelf and knocked over the old TV, which knocked the monster out.

I'm fine, by the way. Y'know, couple deep lacerations, no big deal, right? I mean, who needs weapons when you can pull some Rube Goldberg shit? CAN I GET AN AMEN?!