The moment passed, Tom remembered putting the knife in his mouth. His son winked with a grin, his father’s antics had always amused him and he’d learned to only expect hilarity. Meredith, Tom’s girlfriend, crossed her arms on her chest. Holding the blade steady with his teeth, Tom arched back and felt the point slide down, coming to rest on the back of his throat. Meredith yawned. Tom winked at his son. His boy clapped, "Do it Pop!" Relaxing his jaw, Tom allowed the blade to ease down his throat. It felt like a paper cut. The panic it inspired caused him to pull the blade out sharply. He felt the blood in his throat before the pain in his cheek. Meredith’s eyes expanded. He remembered seeing his son’s face collapsing from delight to terror stricken. The boy’s features: a wailing gargoyle. Tom choked on the flood of red gushing from his mouth. Opening his mouth to gag out a cup of blood, Tom felt his left cheek flapping, tearing wider. Falling to his knees, he drooled and retched crimson. The knife clattered to the floor, a ribbon of sanguine flying off to fall in an arch, not unlike a smile, next to it. His wife started babbling, "What do I... wha... Tom? I’d, I don’t know what..." Tears erupted in a torrent from his son. But all Tom could think of was the sense of slipping he felt while standing still. How deeply the knife had cut into his throat eluded him till he saw black rimming the edge of his vision. Feeling lighter, Tom sensed there wasn’t much left for him. He smelled his son’s coconut birthday cake. He thought about the magician he’d called a "price gouging fuck." He knew he could do the same act, sword swallowing included. Because how hard could it be, he recalled telling Meredith, demonstrating his skill with a steak knife. She’d flinched then, but he’d proved it could be done. His son wouldn’t mind his father instead of a magician; and to show him how well the party would be he’d decided to show him the coolest trick before the other kids arrived. Nathan. And a butcher knife is more impressive than a steak knife – Meredith would never let him live this down – though he felt a mouthful of said knives topped any one blade. Noticing he’d stopped breathing, the blood flowing down his relaxed throat, a small steady measure trickling out his mouth, eyes fixed on the smiling blade, Tom felt foolish and colder. The moment passed, Tom remembered putting the knife...
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