Joel Franusic (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} joel) wrote,@ 2005-08-02 16:14:00 |
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Pocket Knife Story #1
When I was about 8, I got a Swiss Army pocket knife that I took everywhere with me. This is one of many stories I have that center around this knife.
I grew up in a rough part of town, most of the kids I grew up with have been in and out of jail. When my Dad asked me if I wanted to go to the park, it was a very natural thing for me to take the possibility of bullies into account. It's not like I wouldn't have taken my pocket knife with me anyway, but I made sure I had it in the case of bullies.
The park was one of the typical midwestern public parks: drying crab grass everywhere, metal play structures with peeling plastic. I went to go play on the play equipment. I'm not sure about you, but when I was about 8, a fun thing to do was to put lots of sand on the flat part at the bottom of a slide, then go down the slide. Well, as I was dumping sand on the slide, another kid slid down, completely undoing all my work up to that point. I remember that I was pretty upset, did he not look down the slide before he went? There was not much time to get upset about this however, I was soon accosted by the kids slightly deranged mother. The details of what she said are pretty fuzzy, but I do know that between her frothing and gesticulating, she was able to somehow convey to me that she was really upset. Her son slid through the sand I put on the slide, and, somehow by an amazing leap of her logic, I was also responsible for this misdeed. A misdeed that was in need of punishing.
The lady took me roughly by the arm, I was to be punished for her son's stupidity. As she was yanking me around by the arm she instructed her son to go and grab a stick. After he complied, the lady told her son to use the stick to hit me as punishment.
This is where the pocket knife comes in.
I was a pretty obedient kid, I remember considering just letting the events run their course. But I came upon a decision pretty quickly after seeing the large stick that the kid was going to hit me with. I pulled the my Swiss Army knife out of my pocket and flipped out the large blade. "I have a knife!" I shouted at the lady.
"He has a knife! He has a knife!" the lady replied, terrified of 3 inches of steel in the hands an 8 year old.
I didn't waste any time, I ran straight back to my Dad, I think I took a detour to keep the lady from following, but I remember still being afraid that she would find me.
I described the event in great detail to my father, after which he gave a big sigh and with a wink said "Well.... I guess I'll have to take your knife away".
When I was about 8, I got a Swiss Army pocket knife that I took everywhere with me. This is one of many stories I have that center around this knife.
I grew up in a rough part of town, most of the kids I grew up with have been in and out of jail. When my Dad asked me if I wanted to go to the park, it was a very natural thing for me to take the possibility of bullies into account. It's not like I wouldn't have taken my pocket knife with me anyway, but I made sure I had it in the case of bullies.
The park was one of the typical midwestern public parks: drying crab grass everywhere, metal play structures with peeling plastic. I went to go play on the play equipment. I'm not sure about you, but when I was about 8, a fun thing to do was to put lots of sand on the flat part at the bottom of a slide, then go down the slide. Well, as I was dumping sand on the slide, another kid slid down, completely undoing all my work up to that point. I remember that I was pretty upset, did he not look down the slide before he went? There was not much time to get upset about this however, I was soon accosted by the kids slightly deranged mother. The details of what she said are pretty fuzzy, but I do know that between her frothing and gesticulating, she was able to somehow convey to me that she was really upset. Her son slid through the sand I put on the slide, and, somehow by an amazing leap of her logic, I was also responsible for this misdeed. A misdeed that was in need of punishing.
The lady took me roughly by the arm, I was to be punished for her son's stupidity. As she was yanking me around by the arm she instructed her son to go and grab a stick. After he complied, the lady told her son to use the stick to hit me as punishment.
This is where the pocket knife comes in.
I was a pretty obedient kid, I remember considering just letting the events run their course. But I came upon a decision pretty quickly after seeing the large stick that the kid was going to hit me with. I pulled the my Swiss Army knife out of my pocket and flipped out the large blade. "I have a knife!" I shouted at the lady.
"He has a knife! He has a knife!" the lady replied, terrified of 3 inches of steel in the hands an 8 year old.
I didn't waste any time, I ran straight back to my Dad, I think I took a detour to keep the lady from following, but I remember still being afraid that she would find me.
I described the event in great detail to my father, after which he gave a big sigh and with a wink said "Well.... I guess I'll have to take your knife away".
