There’s something about me being in the kitchen with a knife that gives The Big Daddy the heebie jeebies. He gets nervous and hovers.
As I was cutting a watermelon, he appeared out of nowhere and stood behind me. Watching. Lurking. Assessing. When he couldn’t take it anymore he said, “Here…….let me do that for you.” O.k. with a sigh.
Later in the day, I was cutting potatoes to put on the grill and decided to use the slicer The Queen Mum gave me. As if The Big Daddy could smell a sharp instrument, he walked in during the process. Oh geez. Oh gosh. Here let me do that for you. That’s o.k. No, no, I’ll do it. O.k. but be careful. The blade is really sharp.
All of about fifteen seconds went by and he yelled SON OF A BITCH, which one tends to say when they cut themselves and start bleeding. Holy shit, he said, that thing is sharp. I mean really sharp. Isn’t there a tool to use so you don’t get your thumb too close? I mean there should be a tool of some sort. Like a handle so you don’t get cut yourself. Yeah, a tool handle thing. Are you sure there isn’t a tool that came with this thing?
As a matter of fact, a tool did come with the device. It is called The Brain.
