“I’m bleeding” he said.

“I know you are. You owe me another knife.”

“It’s in a safe place between my third and forth ribs. You’re the Wishbone Bandit, aren’t you?”

“Yes pops, where’s the silver?”

“I knew it. Anyway, her cooking stinks. And when you serve shitty food on silver, it all tastes that much more disappointing” he chuckled.

“You’re right, this stuff is tarnished, you got the cream and the cloth?”

“I have the cloth shoved in this hole you left in my side, but I seem to have a silver tooth you broke loose, running around in my mouth….want it?” he grinned.

“When’s the last time this silver was used?”

“You were here for Thanksgiving, about 9 years ago. You carved the turkey, you wouldn’t use the electric knife. Boy, that was a night, we haven’t seen you since.”

“Yep, you’re the old bird now dad, that’s why I use the same knife I fled with that night…where’s the electric one by the way?”

“Your mother’s right behind you, trying to find a place to plug it in. She’s always hated that thing.”