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Why do you call yourself a knife, butter knife? I mean, seriously, the purpose of a knife is to cut things. Slice them open. Dice up the innards and chuck 'em in a crock pot.

But you? You can't cut anything except for soft cheese or butter. You should hang your head in shame and change your name to butter spoon or spreader or spatula. You're no knife.

Me? I'm a steak knife. Yeah, baby, all sleek and ready to rock. I see you checking out my serrations. It's cool. They help to cut through things like muscle tissue and other less savory things. Sinew and gristle. The occasional bone since I sport a full tang all the way through my handle. I'm tough, though flexible enough to work around large bones. My user likes how I can dance around a t-bone and leave no wasted meat behind.

You, Mr. Butter Knife? You're good for something else. You're the first thing the users look for when they need a flat-head screwdriver

Funny thing is I'm good for another purpose, although it's related to my primary purpose. I can be used as a weapon. That slice and dice, that elegant sharp point that can penetrate meat and skin is also useful in case my user is attacked. You're only good if they get assaulted by toast.

You're dull at parties and duller in that silverware drawer. All the hotties look at my finely honed edge and know I'm one sharp utensil. I'm dangerous yet helpful. I can protect others. 

I also clean up easier than you, butter knife. All that delicious marinade and blood rinse right off my shiny stainless steel body. Half the time you're stuck on the counter layered with month-old peanut butter and some crappy jelly the neighbor gave our user as a Christmas present. Who eats mincemeat jelly since the 1890's? 

You can hang out in the silverware drawer. I'm going to go hang out with my sharp siblings in the big knife block on the counter. Right there, front and center, for the user to see and put me to work at a moment's notice.

Wait a minute, what is this shit? Why are you sticking me in a jar of chunky peanut butter, user? God damn it, you ruined my monologue. I hope you choke on the mincemeat jelly.