Table knives, they can't cut - right?
As boys my brothers and I would often play a game called splits. We’d play on our front lawn, standing a yard or so apart, feet together we'd take turns throwing a knife into the grass near the other's feet. If the knife stuck and was within a blade length of your opponent’s foot then he’d move his foot to that point and then take his turn. The game would continue until one of us couldn’t spread our legs any further. It was good clean 1970’s fun. The other day I was comparing knife game notes with a friend, Jeff, who played a similar game as a boy. He had a different name for it, something light and girly as I recall, but the game was basically the same.
One afternoon my brother Trevor and I had become bored with “traditional” splits and decided on a variation. You know, add some excitement to a game in which opponents throw knives at one another. Guy stuff. I was 11 and he was 9 and we were playing with table knives so really, what’s the big deal? I mean they can’t even cut anything, right? Our yard was about 40 feet across so naturally we decided on a game of distance rather than accuracy. It was agreed that a single knife stick, regardless of distance, would be an immediate win.
As the older brother, I threw first. Christian - 1, Trevor - 0. Then he took his turn - he was 9. The knife stuck in my skull then did this vibrating thing completely hollywood style. Christian - 1, Trevor - DEAD MEAT!
Oddly, Trevor now sells knives for a living and I have a small blade shaped dent in my head. Check out his website at BladeOps.com
2 comments:
I distinctly remember thinking, Oh crap, I just killed my brother as you went running around the corner--and the knife was vibrating as you ran. It waggled back and forth in my mind for a long five minutes until Mom came out and said "I'll talk with you when we get home from the Hospital" Shankalicious.
Actually this is a Ure tradition. Except as an only child I had to play it with myself. Unfortunately, self inflicted wounds don't seem as satisfying as impaling your brother. You guys are lucky.
On a side note, when Christian and I used to play at Nan's house he always grabbed these plastic butter knives and wanted to climb trees and duel. I think he was about 6 at the time. Thank goodness he moved.
Post a Comment