The Steel Cheese-Head...The Butcher's Knives for Hands, of course.

And yet, here I am -- in my 40's, so overwhelmed by life that I find the smallest things hard to do -- and yet I yearn for the old days when I would simply have been shoved into an asylum and pumped full of Thorazine...where the evil doctors would perform experiments on me while I was conscious or the whole place would burn down around me, melting gobs of asbestos on my paralyzed skin. Then, later, of course, my spirit would be re-awaken and roam the halls as an apparition with a steel cheese-head shaped face with ultra-huge butcher's knives for hands. And I could then exact my revenge upon unrelated travelers who stumbled upon my haunted psych ward, flaying them alive, really for no other purpose than the fact that I, for some reason, had been spiritually re-invented with a steel cheese-head for a face and two ultra-huge butcher's knives for hands...well, where-ever we go, we also must use what we are given.