Back a few years I entered a contest over at TEOTWAWKI-Blog.com. The contest revolved around sending in a picture of your favorite knife and somehow making your entry unique.
Here is my entry. Figured you might find this entertaining:
Blade Length: 10″ (25.4 cm)
Blade Material: 5160 Carbon Steel
Carry System: Black, heavy duty nylon, M.O.L.L.E. compatible sheath
Handle Material: Micarta
Weight: 14.6 oz
As I slowly walked along the edge of the woodline looking out into the field – I saw them. They were 30 yards away and staggering in a general parallel direction with the edge of pines which concealed me. I had to decide – do I allow them to exist? Do I allow them to continue to feed on the unarmed and ill-prepared? Do I allow them to kill the innocent? The answer was simple…..No!
I grabbed a fist-sized rock and threw it over their heads to distract them. They bit – and turned in the direction of the impact. In an instant I darted out of the woods straight towards the closest of the undead. Within seconds the first was 10 yards away and I had my Buck Hoodlum knife exiting its sheath in my right hand. The target was just beginning to turn in response to my running as I twisted my upper body to the right so my left shoulder was pointing at the walking pile of rotting flesh and then with one quick motion like a coiled spring I twisted to the left. The Buck Hoodlum sliced through the air in my extended right hand. The Hoodlum penetrated the skull of the undead easily and removed the top half. My first target was down – and was not going to be coming back.
Target two reached out with a moan. I wonder if their was any emotion in this thing as it saw its partner crumble to the ground. Regardless – it had to be done. The Hoodlum was still at the end of its initial strike and was on my left side. I turned my wrist so the blade would face the undead and I swung back – removing the arm which had just touched me.
“It touched me……ewwwwwww!!” I thought to myself.
The undead stepped back as his arm hit the ground. Black liquid drained from the wound. One final strike was all that was needed as an overhead swing impacted the skull atop the forehead and split it in half. The undead dropped and laid to rest next to his “friend”.
Wiping the bloody blade off on the clothes of the fallen – I said out load – “Thank you Ron Hood.”
I love my knife.
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