The Triple Threat

I have stocked some mean, wicked knives over the years, and this one is right up there with the best–or worst.  So much so, I would hope that anyone ordering it is a collector of cutlerous exotica, and is not thinking seriously of ever using it as a weapon.  The outward side of the knuckle guard is not only serrated, but also rather sharp.  With neither blade deployed, the little thingies that flip out the blades extend so far out that a temple strike would drive them well into someone’s skull. With both saw-toothed blades deployed, the thing  looks scary as hell. 

Mercifully, the knuckle guard part is on the small side–a hair over 3 inches wide–, so folks with big hands will have a problem getting their fingers into it.  As far as legality goes, I assume the knife is not a bust–it has only been on the market a few months.  Probably, as soon as some felon uses one to send a police officer to that great donut shop in the sky–make no mistake about it, these things are lethal weapons–they will be banned.    MSR, unknown.  I priced them at $39 at my stand, and a biker said that was reasonable, but  his buddy was short, so I let my first one go for $29, so that’s the price, plus $3 shipping and handling (insured priority mail).  Specify silver or black.  With both blades deployed, it measures 9 3/8 inches, tip to tip.

NOTE–The above was supposed to go in my knife catalog, but it looks like that is not going to happen.  To order, please email me at greyfox@auway.org.

Peace and quiet

It is around 7:40 am now.  Earlier, I tended the woodstove and cleaned out the cats’ litter box and checked my email–amazing how many people are concerned with the size of my penis.  Anyway, I just got back from a walk around the block.  This was a considerable perambulation. our block comprising a hundred acres or so, inhabited by four families.  It is quiet both in and out here–my sweety and her son are still alseep, the only sound being her breathing and the dog munching a chewie.  Outside on my walk, the only sounds I could hear were the rustling of my clothes and the soft crunch of my boots on the new-fallen snow.  It  is a monochromatic world this time of day and year–the snow is white, the sky is gray, the trees are black.  That is about all you can see from our place–in the winter, it is like living in a Chirstmas card.

I got ambitious, took a detour up to the highway to watch the cars go by and check out the roadway condition.  I stood there for several minutes–one car went by.  This is one of the busiest highways in the state, but you wouldn’t know it now. Many people wouldn’t even call it a proper highway–it is a two-lane  high-crown blacktop, the kind that  highway safety planners  have nightmares about.  And it IS dangerous–in the winter when it is snowing, everything disappears for a few long seconds every time a truck goes by the other way, and collisions with moose are all too common.  In the summer, it is clogged  with slow-moving campers and rental cars filled with gawking tourists, and  it is not unusual to see a mile-long string of vehicles backed up behind an RV  the size of a city bus piloted by a baffled blue-haired grannie.

But it is quiet now, and I am loving it.  I am filled with peace and serenity and corn flakes with sliced banana.  I am making a point of savoring it now, because it will not last.  Soon my sweety will wake up, I’ll get her coffeed and breakfasted and I will be in full hustle-bustle mode for the next four days.  This weekend, I’ll be working a big gun show at the state fairgrounds in Palmer, which means 15-hour days with little food or sleep.  I plan to get up at 4:00 am Saturday.

Soon I’ll be brushing snow off my van and shovelling the drive and taking out trash.  Then I’ll get the folding tables I use for my outdoor stand at the flea market strip in Wasilla out of the van, stow them in the cabin, and get all the non-gun show merchandise out of the van and into whatever–my wife’s Subie wagon, the dead Eagle wagon I use for storage, the bathtub, wherever I can put the stuff.  Having seven mammals sharing a small trailer means you have to be creative when it comes to making and using storage space, especially when you have your own little retail business with no store to run it from.

Later today, it’s drive over to the old place across the highway to water the feral cats that live there, do a water run, pick up the mail, fix lunch for me and my sweety and make sure she gets her meds, maybe split some firewood, run down to the general store/RV park/laundromat/video rental place to get a cheap video rental to watch tonight–Thursdays, they only charge 99 cents for new releases.  Tomorrow I will inventory my stock and make sure I have enough knives boxed up for the show, assemble the display stands for my oriental sword sets and figure out how to get them in the van (okay, it’s not really a proper van–it’s Roger the Dodge, a 1988 Vista , which has the short hood and boxy body of a van, but is classed as  station wagon), decide what to wear on Saturday, and sort dirty clothes and schlep down to the afore-mentioned general store et alia  to do the family laundry and grab a shower.

If past experience is any guide, the gun show will be a madhouse–we Alaskans do love our weapons.  I hope to sell well over a hundred knives and upwards of a dozen swords.  But right now, it is quiet