The Good Knives
When I was little, there were these weird people called "traveling salesmen" who appeared every now and again in the neighborhood. Now, of course they're long gone, but back in the day, we'd let any old Scott or Tim or possible murderer into our house. Encyclopedia Brittanica? Mom and Dad bought the whole set. Tupperware? Bring it on. We didn't even discriminate against the guy selling Cutco Knives. That's right -- he was selling knives, and one night, Mom opened the door for him like he was her best friend. Soon, I think he was.
Hunched in a corner of the den, I watched the transaction go down. I always thought it was fun when something interrupted dinner.
The salesman laid out the butcher knives, the steak knives, the machetes, the swords, and the various types of scissors. I'm sure there were some nun-chucks, axes, daggers, and crossbows in his bag.
Mom listened intently as he described their possible cutting, dicing, and slicing techniques.
Wide-eyed, I thought, What do we need more knives for? But the salesman wore a suit, and he smelled like Polo cologne, so I figured he was the real deal.
Then the salesman pulled out the Cutco scissors. He began to demonstrate how the scissors were so sharp, they could cut a penny in half. And they could -- that serrated edge cut right through any old penny.
Mom shouted at Dad, "Honey, come look at this! These scissors cut a penny!" Then to me, "Can you believe this?"
"I can't believe it, Mom. Never saw anything cut a penny in half!" I yelled, agreeing wholeheartedly.
With his skeptical face on, Dad slid into the room. "What's this racket all about?"
Smiling like a wild clown, the salesman did another demo of the penny cutting.
Dad gasped. "Never saw that before! Unbelievable. Those things cut a penny right in half! Where's Matt? Get him in here."
Matt, my brother, wasn't around, so I was the sole recipient of the day's magic, and I admit that I was pleased about it.
Mom promptly purchased the scissors, and then she added about five knives on to her bill. She seemed excited, maybe even sweaty.
The salesman seemed excited, maybe even sweaty.
But as the salesman was leaving, reality set in, and a horrible thought about the scissors occurred to me. I waited a few minutes until Dad was gone, and then I tentatively asked Mom this very pointed question: "Why and when would anyone ever need to cut a penny in half?"
Holding her knife set, Mom scrunched her eyebrows, shrugged, and whispered, "You never know." Then she looked around, and I could tell she was listening for Dad's footsteps above her. We did that all the time -- just stared up at the ceiling to make sure he was up there. Then Mom chuckled and winked, "At least I finally got my good knives."
C.A. MacConnell
