“Looks like the blade broke off ’tween your ribs, boy. Sorry bout that.”

“Tsk. I s’pose I owe you a new knife now, don’t I?"

“Your mother’s got an electric, boy. Turkey carver. Don’t worry.”

“So what’s Ma plannin’ on doing with the electric, Pops?”

“She’s gonna cut you up, boy. Then we gotta clean the mess you left us by bleedin everywhere."

“Why’s she gonna do that, you suppose?”

“Why, cos we was told to of course.”

“Well, who told you that?”

“The Peter’s dog told me, and so I told your mother. Damn, boy. You knifed me good. You got some good fight in you.”

“Thanks, pops. Now, you be sure to cut me up good now, right? Make sure you get your knife blade back.”

“We sure will, boy. And you still owe me a knife.”

“Sorry ’bout all the blood, pops.”