Mistress Warrior Meg and the Red Spider

March 29, 2012 at 10:07 am (Cussed Dumbers, The Easy Chair)

“Would you like to sign a petition to get a casino slash water-park slash resort in the old dog kennel?” The petitioner walked back and forth on the MAX, asking everyone the same question.

His nonstop use of the word ‘slash’ was giving me ideas. It was the wrong day to keep making stabbing references.

Y’all know about my love for knives. I’m no Bad Bad Leroy Brown, would never bring a knife to a gunfight. But I’ve got this male thing, like some guys do with cars or motorcycles. I’m no gear-head, but I do enjoy them-there implements of violence.

I’ve meant to get Meg a new survival knife, since the Marshal took back the one he gave her. (“I don’t remember giving you that…”) When the brother-in-law’s birthday came around and he wanted a fixed-blade knife, I took the task upon myself.

Meg suggested the gun show. It sounded like fun, but we ended up spending the money on booze, weed and assorted other necessities. By the time we traveled to the gun show, paid admission and bought the knives, I’d be down another $100. There’s got to be a better way.


Within half an hour, I had selected three knives. One for the bro-in-law, one for Meg and one for me. The box arrived on the day specified, free postage. I tore into the giant box with glee.

The bro-in-law’s birthday gift was a Smith & Wesson Search and Rescue knife. A beauty. If I’d known how cool his was, I’d have gotten it instead.

“Now this is a knife!” I visualized Crocodile Dundee when I saw my choice. Like a survival knife, only bigger. With a 10-inch blade and 15 inches overall, it looked like the blade from the Scream movies. I snapped a phone pic and sent it to Meg. Her one-word response?


I put mine away and looked at Meg’s. A standard survival knife, with a screwcap handle that secreted a compass, waterproof matches, a band-aid and fish hooks and line. She’s quite taken with nature, animals and fishing. She will get lost on purpose, just to test her new knife.

At work, I was stressed from too many knuckleheads. I hid the knives after making wisecracks to Dr T. Just as lunchtime approached, My AA buddy stopped by.

“Hey man, my housing is up. Sponsor me?”

“You bet.”

After the paperwork was filled out, he passed me a small box. “For your troubles.”

A Red Spider folding knife.

He showed me the seat-belt cutter, and the spike on the handle. I thought it was for looks, but apparently it’s meant for breaking car windows. Who knew? (Side job as a jockey-boxer in my future?) I fiddled with its spring-loaded blade, and decided then and there it was my new favorite folding knife. It replaced Bill W. in my vest pocket.

When lunchtime rolled around, I took Meg’s knife and wrapped it in a plastic bag, tossing in Red Spider to show off. We sat on her bed. She snapped Red Spider’s blade open repeatedly. “Sweet…”

I took out the survival knife. Her eyes widened. “Ooh, nice! Is that your brother-in-law’s?”

“Nah, I already gave it to him. It was solid black with no extras.” I showed her the hidden compartment. “Mine’s about half again bigger than this one.”

The look on her face was priceless. “Well, if this isn’t yours, what are you gonna do with it?”

I sheathed it and handed it to her. “One thing I’m NOT gonna do is ask for it back. Merry Christmas darling.” Who cares if it’s March?

She was like a kid at Christmas. I showed her how to sharpen it, giving Red Spider a touch-up in the process. I pointed out the serrated top-side of the knife. “This is a bone saw. Comes in handy if you ever have to dismember a deer.” I grinned wide. “Or a jackass.” She was planning on visiting the Marshal, after all…

I returned to work in much better spirits. After a bit I received a text. “Mistress warrior Meg checking on your headspace. How ya doing?”

I called her. “I was only joking about being homicidal. Public isn’t too bad now.”

“I meant about me visiting the Marshal.”

“Nah, I’m okay. You guys have been friends for ten years. Go have fun!”

“I’m mostly going to drink free booze and help with his laundry. It won’t be that much fun.”

“Well, if nothing else it’ll make me look a lot more appealing after you’re done with him.”

“No question there. Thanks for being cool about this. He wouldn’t be.”

“What’s between you two is between you two. I don’t want to mess things up or be involved. What’s between us is between us. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I could hear her crying over the phone. After a bit, “I love my new knife.”

“All yours, baby.” We rang off.

If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it was meant to be. If it doesn’t come back? Hunt it down and kill it.

Lord knows we have the means.


  1. Jeff said,

    This was standard gear….When entering the old “Coyote Club” on NW 20th ..back in the 1980’s

  2. beastard said,

    The Coyote Club was the first bar I entered legally. It was seven minutes past midnight and I had a noseful of crystal meth. I was killing time until the Motorhead show. Thoughtful of them to play on my 21st birthday, no?

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