The humble spoon. It looks innocuous. Some might call it benign.
Some have no imagination.
I don’t have a lot of time for people who pride themselves on their knife skills. Cutting out your victim’s heart with a knife, where’s the artistry in that? Also, a knife takes away the element of surprise. You pull a knife, people scream and fight and beg for their lives before you’ve begun to have any fun.
I get my spoon out, people laugh. They think they’ve been pranked, look for the camera.
She rivals his prized roses in beauty – long legs, lush lips, claret-coloured curls. Like any rose worthy of the name, she comes with thorns.
If she listened to her father, she would be his. However, she has made it known – in terms so vile they threatened to defile her exquisite beauty – that she will not yield to her father’s – and his own – wishes.
Is she worth his effort to de-thorn her? The next candidate on the list – not beautiful but demure. A shrinking violet may bloom under the tutelage of a stylist, yet a rose will always grow vicious thorns.
But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose.