Amos's Collection, Et Cetera

Amos was sharpening his knives in the backroom of Amos's Discount Tireyard, listening to his high school band--Lunar Reed--over the stereo, and talking to himself. "This is what's magical and such," he said with a sing-songy quality, dragging the blade of a speedknife delicately across the inside of his index finger. "Few things to love more than quiet time with sharpness, in terms of intelligence and music and literal sharpness." His mouth affected an innocent smile, rehearsed and yet convincing, if anybody would have seen it. He looked into a shiny pornographic poster made of cheap, flimsy mirrorlike material to his right, about five feet away, to model his smile. He smiled even bigger, satisfied with his look.

It was then that Abraham burst in, and Amos threw his speedknife into the wall, directly in front of himself, and spun around to see his brother.

"We got too many customers for me and Ma and Rebekah to deal with, Brother!"

Amos nodded. "Well, that was the plan."

"It's working, Brother! And it seems like everybody's worried about this man from the government comin'! This lady just ran up with eight tires, afraid she'd have to drive and set up on the Darkside once this feller came and brought government! Too bad for John Birch Byerson that he just up and died before this panic!"

Amos nodded again and smiled his pretend-innocent smile. "Too bad for John Birch Byerson indeed, Brother." He hopped to. "Afraid of government coming, we all are?"

"Yes, Brother!"

"Well then," Amos said, taking a step to his brother, keeping constant eye contact with Abraham while walking and talking. "Let's go sell us some panic tires."

"Yes, Brother!" Abraham said, scurrying out the door and leaving it ajar.

"Yes, Brother," Amos said, turning to smile at the stereo, a shiny pornographic poster, and eighty-five well-sharpened knifes sticking handle-out from a much-knived wall.