(2003, California) I am what is known as a Rennie, or Renaissance Fair
participant. I patronize a small festival called Koroneburg, between Norco
and Corona. We are a close-knit bunch, and nobody's secrets are safe for
long. However, it is no secret who the village idiot is. When God was
passing out brains, Tim must have thought he said "trains" and requested HO
scale. Really.
As it's a Renaissance festival, we sell what we refer to as "sharp pointy
things." Several booths are dedicated to knives and swords of all sorts. At
one particular booth, Knightware, they sell sharp little throwing knives
called spiders. Larger blades are not sold with a live edge for safety
reasons, but small knives are not only sharpened, but usually better made.
A customer who was interested in blades came across the Knightware
spiders. When he asked if they were sharp, Tim replied, "No, look," and
drove the one-inch blade straight into his chest with all the force he
could muster.
If it were a cheap knife, it would have come out easily, but the well-made
little blade lodged tight in Tim's sternum. Tim was driven to the hospital,
where the spider was removed. He was subsequently billed for the knife, on
the grounds that no one else wanted to buy a knife with its bloodthirsty
history.
Tim was taken back to the hospital two weeks later to stitch his thumb
together. He had been sharpening his new knife when it slipped, and he cut
himself down to the bone. Tim is now banned from all weapons stalls,
although he doesn't understand why.
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Submitted by: Christina
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