I was carrying my Ballzooka and Razorbeast across town. At the corner of 9th and Bleecker I ran into a middle-aged black guy pan-handling with a cup on the corner.

He was immediately intrigued by the grotesque stylings of the RazorBeast. "Hey boss, what the heck are those things?" he asked. "Some sort of water guns or something?"

"No," I explained. "It shoots sucker darts. It's made by Nerf."

"No shit!" he exclaimed. By this time, he was so interested in the gun that I found myself involved in a complicated explanation of the workings of the RazorBeast: the expandable clips of bullets, the crank-firing action, the air-pressure launch mechanism. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Can I try it?"

Well, why not? I figured, and handed it over.

He wandered over to the window of a trendy little restaurant. The patrons looked up in mild confusion. Then he grabbed the gun's crank and turned it, energetically strafing the window with foam sucker-darts. The patrons—two young yuppies in suits—froze in abject terror, their forks suspended halfway to their mouths.

There are few spectacles that can bring traffic to a halt in New York, but an indigent black guy blasting a couple of suits with a Razorbeast is one of them. In a few seconds, we had a small crowd of onlookers.

"Right on!" yelled one of them.