I saw it in one of those cookware stores, a magnificent knife, German steel, so clean you could see your reflection in it. Being a chef, getting the job quite recently, in fact, I thought some equipment of my own would be just fine and dandy. I also had a second job as a butcher, so I figured it should be useful then, too. I took a look at the price, and it was an outrageous price. $550! I had to be able to find a knife like that at a better price.
I looked on Craigslist and after a week or so, I got a nice, German steel knife, just like the one I found in the store. For only $20, too! I gladly accepted, and when I came home later from work, I brought home some leftover beef sirloin from work. I unwrapped the knife, and took a hold of it. With that knife in my hand, I felt good. Really good to be exact. I cut through that sirloin without any effort or resistance whatsoever.
“Amazing!” I proclaimed.
I continued cutting the meat into thin slices, and cooked them. I made a beautiful salad, without having to slide the knife. Once it was all done, I ate, and it tasted more magnificent than any other thing I had ever tasted. I wondered how strong this knife was. Once I finished and did the dishes, I proceeded to wash the knife. Once that knife touched the water, it was spotless! I smelled it (out of natural curiosity) and there was the clean scent of lemons.
“Smells so fresh,” I commented.
I proceeded to test the knife's strength and sharpness. I took an old, unused tin can. I placed the knife's blade gently on the side of the tin can, and started sawing. To my amazement, in only two slides the can was cut cleanly in half. I took one half, and took the sharp edge of the can to a torn piece of silicone from a cupcake mold previously thrown out, and it slid right through!
A few days later, I had decided to go hunting. I grabbed my rifle and went out in my truck. I managed to get a fairly good sized deer. I had brought my knife with me, just in case. I went over to the buck and dragged back to my vehicle. I thought that, since I brought my knife, I might as well, so I dressed the deer right on the spot, out here in the middle of the forest. Its blood was warm on my hands, and it was almost dead, but still clinging to life as I gutted it and the such. When I returned home, I roasted that deer, a meal even better than the last. I was pleased with my work. I soon tried all kinds of food, but it had to be cut with that knife. I became closer and closer with it, taking it everywhere I went.
One day, I was out for what I thought was only a few hours, and when I returned home, my girlfriend was worried. She said I'd been gone for weeks on end. She also knew about my beautiful knife. She told me it was a problem, and I had to part with it now. We struggled over the knife, but we eventually reached an agreement... sort of. When I realized she had been telling the truth, I contemplated about whether or not I should get rid of the knife. But, I decided against it. After all, this knife is mine now, it's the best thing in the world, it's my life. But what was the agreement? Let's just say that human meat doesn't taste very good...