She hated them. She hated them both. She was sick of hearing Utility Knife brag about his accomplishments and his droning, endless speeches explaining for the hundredth time how you can do anything if you “really try”. She was sick of Santuko and his ultra-cool, hipster lifestyle. It wasn’t that long ago when she was always the first knife chosen but now, well now she was hardly ever chosen at all. She could still do all of the things she had always done so well. She could easily remove the skin from an apple or a potato. She could cut any number of vegetables into nice, uniform chunks without even trying. Yet, it seemed that Paring Knife was hardly ever called on to perform any more. She remembered the day when Santuko showed up with his long, flat blade covered with little indentations. She thought he looked completely ridiculous, like maybe he had some sort of physical affliction. Probably picked up cheap at a scratch and dent sale, she thought. Utility Knife, on the other hand, was as dull as Santuko was dumb. Utility Knife had absolutely no distinguishing characteristics at all. She thought he looked about as dull as televised congressional hearings. She didn’t even know why those two were here, much less actually being used all the time. She hadn’t been given a job in months. Paring Knife had taken all she could stand of living out her days in this tiny, three slot knife block with these same two idiots and was ready to make her move.
She didn’t want to be away from the knife block or just the kitchen or even the house. Paring Knife wanted to see the world. Napa Valley, Paris, Rome, New York City. She’d dreamt of working in the best kitchens in the best restaurants run by the most skilled culinary magicians in the world. She had seen enough of Utility getting every job day after day. She had seen enough of Santuko getting the special jobs when there were guests to impress. Fine, she thought, if no one here is impressed with me any more, they could have their two trendy boneheads. Her journey almost began in the back of a garbage truck last month when she tried to get herself thrown out with an empty pizza box, but she had been snatched out at the last minute, thrown in the dishwasher to almost drown – again – and replaced in the knife block with the two idiots. She remembered hearing the human say, “Back where you belong” as he slid her into her slot in the block. Back where she belongs. Back to the loneliest belonging she could imagine.
Paring Knife seethed. She had heard them both chuckling to themselves when they saw her get replaced into the block. They’ll both get theirs, she thought. She imagined the day when Santuko would be forgotten and Mr. Favorite would be tossed in the junk drawer with the steak knives and the garlic press. Utility knife? Well, maybe if there was a God, Utility knife would fall into the garbage disposer unnoticed and be chopped to tiny bits.
“OK, which one of you bastards gave me up?” She snarled at Santuko and Utility
“Pipe down, sister.” Santuko responded in that squeaky, annoying voice of his.
“Yeah, relax sweetheart” Utility knife said, “things will get better, you just have to believe.”
“Better?” she asked. “It was better before you two came along. Do you think there was no cutting being done before you? Do you think there was no peeling? Do you know who did all that before? ME, that’s who. Do you know who was used to cut the baby’s food into tiny pieces so he wouldn’t choke to death? ME, that’s who. I’ve been in this family for fifteen years. I’ve given them the best days of my life and where did it get me? Here. Never used, watching you two late-comers get all the glory while I sit here in this block tarnishing away. I sit here and watch every guest pick up a stupid-looking dent-riddled knife from somewhere in Asia and say, ‘Ohh, look at that!’ and ‘Wow, where did you get this?’”
Santuko hated being called a stupid-looking dent-riddled knife from somewhere in Asia and Paring Knife knew it. She called him that at every opportunity.
“God, will you just shut up?” Santuko said, finally. “The humans brought us here. We didn’t come here on our own to make your life hell. We just do what we’re supposed to do and you would probably have a much nicer life if you would accept that.”
“I’ll accept nothing.” She said. “Nothing.”
Now Utility Knife joined in. “We haven’t done anything to you, P.K. There’s no reason we can’t get along here. You just have to stop being so hateful.”
“My life here is over. Can you understand that?” No, you can’t she said to herself, but someday you may. “Do you have any idea what it is like to be the number one tool in the kitchen, to be involved in at least one meal every day and then to have it taken completely from you by a couple of trendy new knives. I’ve been here for so long, and I’ve worked so hard and now I’ve been forgotten.”
Santuko said, “Did anyone here order gloom service?” Utility and Santuko chuckled.
“It happens,” said Utility “trends come and go. Sure, you’re not being used so much right now, but you are still a valuable member of the team. You just need to be here when your time comes again. Every day is a new day.”
“My days have passed.” She replied, her voice softening, “It’s over for me. I need a chance to start again somewhere else.”
In the days following the pizza box incident, Paring Knife had become increasingly anxious to escape. She had been so close to freedom that she could almost taste it and now she wanted it more than anything. She had become more and more brazen and her escape attempts had started to attract the attention of the other utensils.
“What’s wrong with her?” the spoons would ask each other. The butter knives criticized her for wanting to escape when she already had it better than they ever had. The forks noticed the commotion, but usually would just shake their heads and keep to themselves.
A week after her most recent failed attempt, Paring Knife looked around the kitchen nervously and decided to make her move. Again.
“So long, suckers!” she said as she wiggled herself free from the block, falling onto the marble countertop.
“How many times have we heard that?” sighed Santuko. “Paring Knife, stop acting like a fool and get back up here where you belong.”
Usually, she would gladly take the time to spew an angry response to any comment from one of the idiots, but this time Paring Knife did not respond. All the words had been said. No more words. Action only. They’ll see. She wiggled herself to the edge of the counter and silently tumbled over. The hardwood floor approached quickly and she felt the cool breeze of freedom wash over her once again. She thought of Paris and Rome. She thought of Hawaii and Montreal. She thought about New York City. Something felt different this time. She had tumbled off that countertop many times in the past few months, only to be shoved back into the block by some human, who would then launch into a tirade to other humans about being more careful with the knives. In fact, that was the whole reason she even did it in the beginning. She really enjoyed causing arguments between the humans who had all but forgotten her. Then one day she realized that falling onto the floor could be the start of a journey, and not just the end. Maybe there was more for her. So she tried. Again and again. Only this time felt different. This time, she thought, this time I’m really going to make it. The people of the house had just left for the day and had forgotten to close the patio door. She had all the time she would need to slide over to the screen door and slice her way out. This is my time, she thought. The floor was very close now and she prepared for impact. All she had to do was land on her handle and … and …
Thwaap!
Paring Knife’s blade sunk deeply into the thinnest of gaps between two strips of Oak flooring. The rest of her quivered from the impact.
What the? Oh, for Pete’s sake!
She wiggled and twisted and violently shook her body. She tried rocking back and forth. No good. Nothing. Her blade was stuck and she was in too deep. Stuck into the floor directly beneath the counter. She could barely see the knife block. She could barely see the two idiots trying to peek over the edge to see what happened.
“I’d give the routine itself a seven, but the landing was spectacular!” Santuko said, giggling.
“She definitely stuck the landing.” Said Utility.
Gymnastics jokes, Paring Knife thought, that’s new.
She struggled again to free herself, using every ounce of her strength. She couldn’t be stuck here. She just couldn’t. How many times has she fallen onto this floor without getting stuck? Her blade isn’t even sharp! She tried for hours to free herself without getting even a tiny bit loose. It’s possible that she just got herself stuck even more. She could feel the anger inside her rising and expanding. All she wanted was a life, her life. She wanted her life back. Was that such a terrible thing? Why was the universe apparently so against her regaining a small portion of the respect she once enjoyed? She just wanted to feel needed. Necessary. Valued. She got stuck with humans who didn’t care. Then she got stuck with the idiots. Now she was stuck in the floor. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck! And then, just when she felt the anger inside was about to make her burst, it was gone.
Instead, she cried.
She cried the hot, bitter tears of disappointment and self-pity. She cried angry tears and sad tears. She cried tears of frustration. Maybe Santuko was right. Maybe she already was where she belonged. She remembered all her attempts to escape. Once she tried to hide in an empty mayonnaise jar. Another time, she had tried to slide off of the counter and onto the dog’s back, thinking she could stay hidden in the fur and wait until the dog went outside and just jump off. Turns out that dogs generally don’t like things falling onto their backs. Her handle has the bite mark to prove it. Reflecting on everything she’d done recently made her realize what a fool she really had been. Why had she acted that way? Maybe, just maybe, her life wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. She had a good home. She had friends, despite the way she had been acting lately. They still seemed to like her. Well, maybe they only tolerated her, but they would like her if they knew the real her. They had only seen her act like a negative, miserable bitch.
Her tears stopped and she sighed heavily. New day, she thought, new day.
A few minutes later, she felt herself being grabbed and pulled free from the floor. “I’ve had enough of this!” the human shouted at no one in particular. “And why is this knife all wet?” The human person dried her off and examined her to make sure she wasn’t damaged. She looked okay. No bent parts. No broken pieces. She had spent the last few minutes of being stuck in planning her speech to the guys. Hopefully, they could believe her when she told them how she had changed and how sorry she was for her insufferable behavior. The three of them were a team. The Knife Block Bunch. She was looking forward to the reunion and, believe it or not, she was looking forward to tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. She was looking forward to her life. It had never actually been lost. She just had to claim it. And now she had. It was her miracle.
The human turned and lifted her up to the block, which she now could see. “Guys! I’m really sor …”
Crash!
Slam!
Everything went dark. She couldn’t see a thing. Where was she? Had the whole world gone black? “Utility, Santuko are you there?” she whispered, her voice quivering with trepidation. “What happened?”
“Pardon me, madam,” said a voice. “But you are pressing down forcibly on my handle. Kindly provide me a modicum of privacy and remove yourself.”
“Garlic Press, is that you?” Paring Knife asked.
“Yes, of course.” He said.
“But aren’t you in the drawer?” she asked, hoping to not hear the answer she anticipated.
“Yes, I am in the drawer. Now you are also. We are one big, happy family in the drawer. Welcome.”
Paring Knife’s mind was spinning. The drawer? How could that happen? No! They couldn’t put her in the drawer. Had she been that bad? She hadn’t been found on the floor that much, had she? How could she speak to the guys? How could she tell them how wrong she had been? How could she tell them of her change, her miracle? She wasn’t the same Paring Knife they thought they knew. She had to tell them. She …
“Pardon me, madam, but you are still pressing down forcibly on my handle.” Said Garlic Press.
“Shut up, idiot” Paring Knife snarled as the anger began to build.
She hated him.