“Phew” sighs Peter the pocket knife “I’m bushed” and he threw himself down into the corner of the pocket as far away from his master’s grubby hands as possible.
“Thank goodness, it’s the weekend. It’s sure been one hell of a week” and he sighs again to nestle further into the fluffy corner.
To clear his mind, he recaps on the jobs that he and Harry had done. Wednesday was particularly huge and his biggest challenge ever. The day had dawned grey and cloudy. Peter knew this because during the week his place overnight was the little brass plate beside the bed. Not the pocket. Anyhow back to Wednesday and inside the pocket, they’d left early to get to the school before the Mum’s rush. And what Mums! They were amazing. They’d roar up in their station wagons (a bit of power play Peter thought), open the doors and almost push their kids out into the school yard. For some reason they were always in such a hurry to get to the tennis courts. So Peter, and Harry of course, ambled round the corner too. Even from a distance they could see a pile of clothes, purses and bags heaped up onto the bench beside the courts.
“OK, so my pocket has a little peep hole. A barely distinguishable flap that I can lift up to see what’s going on”. Peter takes over telling the story to the dark pocket corner.
“Harry casually leaves me on the bench and wanders over to the courts to chat to the girls. Give them some coaching, I suspect, Harry thinks he knows everything”.
“Here’s what I had to do”. I jump onto the end of my red cover and a little sharp blade automatically pops up. It’s sharp and I think used to get stones out of horses hoofs. Or it can act as a spear and stab money. Notes of course. In just a few minutes I stabbed about 20 $100 notes. A good catch Eh! I wait anxiously in case the notes blow away in the wind but it’s only a few minutes before me and the notes are back in the pocket. Safe as houses.
Peter closes his eyes and rests at a comfortable angle into the corner of the pocket. All his blades including the cork screw and the stone remover have been removed as Harry cleans then over the weekend. Peter feels light and free, relaxed and sleepy. The pocket is inside a dark green denim pair of jeans. It sits sort of mid thigh and is deep and roomy. Apart from the peep hole, the pocket fastens securely, firstly with a strip of noisy velcrose and then a metal zip. The inside is soft and fleecy and often hides a couple of gems or earrings.
Peter wakes up with a start. He finds it difficult to breath. Something is filling up the space above him. He fumbles around and the something is soft, like material but squashed into a ball. The ball starts to uncurl and corners gradually slide towards Peter. It smells like lavender.
“What the …………….?”. Then he remembers the gorgeous young mum with long blond hair. He’d not taken any of her money but he had stolen her pale pink hanky. Just as a reminder that even pocket knives have hearts and are allowed to dream from time to time.
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2 comments:
Kerry says:
Ok so this is an all-dancing all-singing pocket knife! Your knife has really come to life Sue. I like the little bit of romance at the end. I was confused at times about what was conversation and what was being narrated. It would be an interesting challenge to crop the story back to 500 words and go through the exercise of cutting out any extraneous bits. Thanks Sue.
Spicy images. I'm left with a smile, a sense of fun and a good picture of your character.
Sometimes your POV shifted from 3rd to 1st person. I think if you'd dropped the conversation and yet described Peter and the scene, it would have held together more strongly.
I loved the handkerchief scene at the end, with the description of the lavendar corners unfolding toward him. But I wasn't clear whether it was Peter or Harry who collected it. Peter seemed surprised by it, but was the one with the romantic streak. ???
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