“It’s about time we cleanse this utensil drawer! No more should we suffer the round ones. Utensils with points have purpose! Points are purpose! No one needs a spoon. If it’s a liquid, drink it!” The steak knife paced back and forth while addressing his assembly of knives and forks. “Major Fork, bring in the prisoner.”

A silver fork sprung forth using its 4-point tip to urge the soup spoon towards the steak knife at the front of the assembly. There was a hush amongst the other pointed utensils.

“Spoon,” the knife began calmly, “I think you know why you are here.”

“I - I don’t, steak knife,”

“GENERAL STEAK KNIFE!” the knife bellowed in rage, cutting off the spoon.

“S-sorry, General Steak Knife.” The spoon stammered.

“I’ll tell you why you’re here. You’re an abomination! Utensils should have points! They should cut, they should stab, they should help defend if necessary. What can you do that a cup already doesn’t?! You’re weak. You take space in this drawer, space that could be used by USEFUL utensils. I intend to rectify that. Major Fork, bring the prisoner to the edge of the drawer.”

The fork leaned in and pushed its four prongs against the back of the spoon, urging it towards the edge of the open drawer.

“No, please, round utensils can still be useful. Please. Fork, please, we were friends. We’re used in almost every meal. It’s the knife that’s not as necessary. Please!” The spoon backed up to the edge of the drawer and looked down at the black and white tiled kitchen floor so far below. The fork just stared at the spoon, looking at his own reflection back in the spoon’s polished round silver face.

“And now we cleanse the drawer of the rounds and reclaim this space for the pointed, for the mighty!” The steak knife leaned forward, aiming its sharp point for the head of the spoon ready to run and stab to send the spoon flying out of the drawer. The steak knife took a breath and began its run.

The fork watched the knife aim and push forward murderous intent on its face. Then the fork looked at the spoon, quivering on the drawer's edge. He saw the fear in the spoon’s face. He saw his own fear. The knife screamed and pushed forward and there was a deafening clang of metal on metal, but it was not the knife’s point against the round face of the spoon. It was the fork stepping between and catching the knife’s blade between its points.

“Major Fork! What are you doing? Release me at once! This is what we wanted! No more rounds. Point is purpose!” The knife shouted, seething with hate.

“No, General. I can’t let you do this. Spoon belongs here. The spoon is a utensil just like us. We’re a set!”

The knife struggled in vain to free itself of Fork’s prongs. “When I get free I’ll kill you both! A knife is all you need! I’ll kill you both!” The knife repeated, moving wildly trying to free its dangerous tip from between the fork’s points.

As it looked like the knife may have been able to free itself from the grasp of the fork, the fork twisted and threw the knife over the edge. Neither the fork or spoon looked, but everyone heard the scream fall silent as the sound of metal hitting tile clanged throughout the kitchen.

“Thank you, Fork. You saved my life.” The spoon said quietly, still in shock from the scene.

“No spoon, it was you who saved me. You showed me the truth when I looked into your beautiful round face.”