Read Online RS01. The Reluctant Sorcerer by Simon Hawke - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Hawke
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Brewster’s trusty little Swiss Army knife.
Now, to those of you who might be among the uninitiated few, those poor, deprived souls who have never had the pleasure of owning a genuine Swiss Army knife, it should be said that a Swiss .Army knife is unquestionably one of me crowning achievements of human civilization. (They make neat little Christmas presents, too.) However, this is the sort of realization one comes to gradually.
A gift of a Swiss Army knife to someone who has never owned one before is quite likely to result in raised eyebrows and a somewhat awkward, “Oh. Gee... thanks. I’ve... uh ... always wanted one of these.” To which the correct response should be, “You’re very welcome,” and a knowing little smile. Because, you see, such an individual has not yet been enlightened. But enlightenment will come, don’t worry. It may come soon, or it may take a little time, especially if the recipient of this bountiful gift thoughtlessly tucks it away inside a purse or a desk drawer and forgets about it for a while. However, it will come eventually, for sooner or later, that Swiss Army knife will be remembered and its skills brought into play.
Perhaps, as in Brewster’s case at the moment, it will take a splinter that one needs tweezers to remove. Perhaps a cord on a package will need cutting, or a screw will require tightening when there is no toolbox handy, or a toothpick will be needed when there aren’t any around, or there will arise a need for a handy pair of scissors and there will be no scissors to be found... but wait! Wasn’t there a scissor blade on that Swiss Army knife? And then, once a person realizes just how useful this marvelous little piece of cutlery can be, they will never want to be without it.
They might even go out and buy a second one, with a different set of blades, because the one they’ve got doesn’t have a saw or a magnifying glass, and there may arise a need to keep another in the toolbox or the kitchen drawer, one for the office, a tiny one to keep on a key chain, and so forth, until one is the proud owner of several of these wonderful contraptions and comes to a true appreciation of just how practical and useful they can be.
And then, when the ultimate stage of enlightenment is achieved, that individual starts handing out Swiss Army knives as gifts to friends and relatives, who will probably respond with raised eyebrows and an awkward, “Oh. Gee... thanks. I’ve... uh... always wanted one of these.” But then, such is the nature of the benefits of advanced civilization. One doesn’t always recognize them at first.
(You might think the preceding was a rather long and pointless expository lump, but rest assured, it wasn’t. Actually, it was an intrusive narrative aside, but we’ll leave such technical terms for graduate students and people who write literary criticism. The point is, it had a purpose. Quite aside from the fact that your narrator happens to be fond of knives, due to a rather troubled childhood, Swiss Army knives and the enlightening effect they have on people play an important part in Brewster’s story. Remember, always trust your narrator.) Now, where were we? Oh, right. Brewster is sitting at a decimated smorgasbord and trying to remove a splinter from his palm with his trusty little pair of tweezers, while Mick is watching with amazement. Onward...
“There, that’s got it,” Brewster said, plucking out the splinter with his tweezers. He glanced up at Mick, saw the expression on his face, and frowned. “What is it?” “Faith, and I was about to ask you that very thing,” said Mick. “A wee pair of tongs, is it?” “Oh, you mean these?” said Brewster. “They’re called tweezers.” “Why?” Brewster frowned again. “I’m not sure, exactly. Perhaps because women used them to pluck out their eyebrows.” Mick raised his. “What?” “It was called tweezing, I think,” said Brewster, uncertain because etymology was not his field of
Now, to those of you who might be among the uninitiated few, those poor, deprived souls who have never had the pleasure of owning a genuine Swiss Army knife, it should be said that a Swiss .Army knife is unquestionably one of me crowning achievements of human civilization. (They make neat little Christmas presents, too.) However, this is the sort of realization one comes to gradually.
A gift of a Swiss Army knife to someone who has never owned one before is quite likely to result in raised eyebrows and a somewhat awkward, “Oh. Gee... thanks. I’ve... uh ... always wanted one of these.” To which the correct response should be, “You’re very welcome,” and a knowing little smile. Because, you see, such an individual has not yet been enlightened. But enlightenment will come, don’t worry. It may come soon, or it may take a little time, especially if the recipient of this bountiful gift thoughtlessly tucks it away inside a purse or a desk drawer and forgets about it for a while. However, it will come eventually, for sooner or later, that Swiss Army knife will be remembered and its skills brought into play.
Perhaps, as in Brewster’s case at the moment, it will take a splinter that one needs tweezers to remove. Perhaps a cord on a package will need cutting, or a screw will require tightening when there is no toolbox handy, or a toothpick will be needed when there aren’t any around, or there will arise a need for a handy pair of scissors and there will be no scissors to be found... but wait! Wasn’t there a scissor blade on that Swiss Army knife? And then, once a person realizes just how useful this marvelous little piece of cutlery can be, they will never want to be without it.
They might even go out and buy a second one, with a different set of blades, because the one they’ve got doesn’t have a saw or a magnifying glass, and there may arise a need to keep another in the toolbox or the kitchen drawer, one for the office, a tiny one to keep on a key chain, and so forth, until one is the proud owner of several of these wonderful contraptions and comes to a true appreciation of just how practical and useful they can be.
And then, when the ultimate stage of enlightenment is achieved, that individual starts handing out Swiss Army knives as gifts to friends and relatives, who will probably respond with raised eyebrows and an awkward, “Oh. Gee... thanks. I’ve... uh... always wanted one of these.” But then, such is the nature of the benefits of advanced civilization. One doesn’t always recognize them at first.
(You might think the preceding was a rather long and pointless expository lump, but rest assured, it wasn’t. Actually, it was an intrusive narrative aside, but we’ll leave such technical terms for graduate students and people who write literary criticism. The point is, it had a purpose. Quite aside from the fact that your narrator happens to be fond of knives, due to a rather troubled childhood, Swiss Army knives and the enlightening effect they have on people play an important part in Brewster’s story. Remember, always trust your narrator.) Now, where were we? Oh, right. Brewster is sitting at a decimated smorgasbord and trying to remove a splinter from his palm with his trusty little pair of tweezers, while Mick is watching with amazement. Onward...
“There, that’s got it,” Brewster said, plucking out the splinter with his tweezers. He glanced up at Mick, saw the expression on his face, and frowned. “What is it?” “Faith, and I was about to ask you that very thing,” said Mick. “A wee pair of tongs, is it?” “Oh, you mean these?” said Brewster. “They’re called tweezers.” “Why?” Brewster frowned again. “I’m not sure, exactly. Perhaps because women used them to pluck out their eyebrows.” Mick raised his. “What?” “It was called tweezing, I think,” said Brewster, uncertain because etymology was not his field of
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