My father gave my brother a swiss army knife when we were little. I can remember that day clearly; it was definetly a summer day in philly. He was showing off his new knife, but he couldn't open it. Persistance combined with a stubborn boy is defiently a recipe for disaster. he found the safty lock and opened it; and proceeded to sharpen a stick he would later chase me with. It wasn't long for my grandma (who was suposed to be watching) to yell for us to stop and come inside.
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