Mostly True Memoirs
A SHARP KITCHEN KNIFE
I am missing a sharp kitchen knife.
I asked the Grown Sons if either of them had it in their room.
They were both offended at the question.
Their rooms are where coffee cups, cereal bowls and silverware go to die.
Wet towels migrate into their man caves to propagate mold.
They have been known to pilfer scissors, nail clippers, phone chargers and mechanical pencils.
And break every single one of them.
So yeah, I asked the question.
Each of them pointed the finger at his brother.
Now I’m a bit paranoid.
It was only a small utility knife.
I don’t suppose they’re planning to stab me in my sleep.
Although they could perhaps carry out a good scratching.
Cue the Psycho knife stabbing music…