“I stabbed the intruder with a knife. How else was I supposed to cut him into bite-sized pieces?”

“The truth is I did try to stab him. I tried to stab him with a butter knife. Why? Because it seemed deadlier than trying to stab him with a melting stick of butter.”

“I both made the knife-fighting team, and I got cut. If only love were so easy to understand.”

“I don’t need a steak knife to cut my meat. That’s why karate chops were created. I’m like a butter knife, only slightly less deadly. But I’m great with bagels—and disobedient old people.”

“When I was a kid, I’d leave my door cracked with a piece of lint on top, and if I came home and the lint was on the floor, I’d know there’d been an intruder in my room. Of course, I shared a room with the washer and dryer, so this led to many false accusations.”

“I’ll stab you with a pointy thingy. Not a sword, a knife, or even a mountaintop. No, I’ll use my index finger—and just to make a point about violence.”

“I met a man from Columbia who had a table for a back. I asked if it was a coffee table. He got offended and thought I was stereotyping him. How was I supposed to know it was a Three-drawer Wuchow Console Table?”