Reggie stood shoulder to shoulder with him running the blade of his knife along his arm, “Hell, this is sharp, cut the hair right off my arm.” He rubbed his finger along the skin and presented the arm to Don. “See cuts like a razor,” he nodded. “It’d be a mistake–two against one and you really don’t want to cause any trouble. It’s just a little snort and sometimes some hash or weed. Stuff needs to be legalized anyway.”
In a flash the knife flew from his hand, piercing a hermit crab as it scuttled along the spongy shore.
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