Jim the Knife
Another story coming from my time in Wakefield…

When studying I, like many students I know, worked in a bar so I could earn those all important beer tokens… Er, I mean, afford all those text books…

Anyway, on arriving to Sunny Wakefield ™, I wandered around the various bars and restaurants giving out my CV – and within 2 days I had a shiny new position as a barman at that fine eatery known as Wolski’s.

I worked hard, and eventually we came to Christmas. It was all hands on deck, but it was ok as I was very good friends with the head chef and several people from my course also worked there. We’d gone in to vacation time, and as a result there were several of us who were working well over 80 hours a week. After a few weeks, delirium began to set in and we all started getting a bit of cabin fever. On top of this, I was called upon to switch my time between the restaurant and the kitchen, prepping and turning out veg and working functions.

On one particularly busy lunchtime shift my friend James (the Head Chef) turns to me in the kitchen. I still remember this clear as day. He had a paring knife in his left hand, he put his right hand on my shoulder, looked me right in the eye and said:

“Do you trust me?”

“’Course I do!” Said I, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

In one swift move, he drew his hand back and plunged the blade deep in to my side. He wrenched his hand away, laughing like a maniac, leaving me stood there, stabbed and likely bleeding to death.

“You… You BASTARD!” I cried, incandescent with rage, “what the FUCK did you do that for?”

He kept laughing. The bastard kept laughing and so did everyone else while I slowly bled out on the floor of the kitchen.

But… Hang on… Wait… There’s no blood. And, surprisingly, no pain. Is this the endorphins kicking in? Am I already dead?

No.

As he had drawn his hand back, he dropped the knife, and the pain I felt in my side was a short, sharp and hard punch.

I only consider myself lucky that I didn’t lose control of my sphincter that day, or the gravy would have had a particularly nutty fragrance.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 15:22, 2 replies)

I'm having trouble visualising how this would work.
Wouldn't the knife have landed on your foot or at least clattered onto the floor?
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 13 Dec 2007, 23:15, closed)

Well,
It did indeed fall to the floor, but it happened so quickly that I didn't notice in a fairly noisy environment...
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 14 Dec 2007, 9:34, closed)