Harassed at the store today Options

[Reidar]

Okay, here's everything that happened. Just a few hours ago, I was at the grocery store because I was out of beef hearts. As I came out with my bags, I just happened to pay a passing glance at an Army recruiting booth that was set-up near the entrance. That was either one too many or too few, because as I walked by, someone shouted, "HEY!" I turned around to face the recruiter, dressed in camo garb and high-top boots, standing over his chair with a finger pointed at me accusingly.
"Aren't you going to at least take the time to salute Ol' Glory here?!" he demanded, indicating to the miniature flag hanging from the booth.
"No," I replied.
"Well, punk, we've got men dyin' in the mud to give you the freedom to say that!" he snarled as he walked out from behind the set-up. "And they WOULDN'T appreciate a low-life like yourself comin' here and disrespectin' their service!"
"Oh, I respect the military," I said simply. "I just don't respect you."
"Respect THIS!" he cried as he swung at me. An amateurish blow. His disposition was disproportionately applied onto his rear foot, which caused his lead deltoid to shift adversely against the inertia of his bodyweight. I casually grabbed his arm, locked my hand around the inside of the elbow, and used my free hand to pull his wrist up and above his head as I stepped behind him.
"AAARRGGHH!" he roared in pain at his disfigured appendage.
"This is quite a twist," I said without flinching.
I noticed him inching his other hand into his pocket for what I could see to be a very large combat knife. I released my ironclad grip just as he spun around and slashed at my chest with the weapon, ripping a gash into the front of my shirt. He smirked, and brought the knife down again. I rolled out of the way and almost collided into a passing pedestrian who had just exited the store. "Excuse me, ma'am," I said politely as I grabbed the box she was carrying. It was a brand new toaster oven - a De Longhi CTM2023 Metropolis 2 slice, to be precise. I just had to admire the sheen on this baby. The graphite finish was framed with beautiful silver accents that complimented its sleek outline, reminiscent of retro apparatuses from the '50s. Extra-wide slots and self-adjusting bread grips would ensure maximum heating efficiency.
"DROP DEAD!" my assailant screamed as he struck again.
"I don't do requests," I stated as I shielded myself with the cardboard. His blade was embedded into the box, so I twisted it sharply to my right, running it over the knife and drawing a long cut into the side. The toaster fell out and into my hands. "What the f***?!" the goon cried in confusion. I addressed his inquiry by swinging the appliance by its electrical cord straight into his skull. He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"You're toast," I said with a straight face. He was out cold. The walkie-talkie attached to his belt clip crackled with garbled speech, but I couldn't make out what it was.

Luckily, at that point, there was a crowd gathered around us, so there were plenty of witnesses to what happened. My name is clear.