Artist's Butterknife of Regret

Artist's Butterknife of Regret The dull ineffectiveness of a butterknife is a perfect metaphor for the paralyzing dull ache of regret. Provided, of course, you're a sufficiently pretentious artist to make a metaphor out of everything. Type: combat item Selling Price: 11 Meat. Deals 10-20 Physical Damage (In-game plural: Artist's Butterknives of Regret)

View metadata Item number: 6104 Description ID: 327687444 View in-game: view View market statistics refreshedit data

Obtained From

A Kitchen Drawer

Butterknife of Regret

When Used

• In combat:

	You fling the butterknife at your opponent, hitting him for 10-20 damage.

• Vs. a bag of Potatoes of Security:

	You slice the Potatoes of Security into tiny cubes with the Butterknife of Regret. One can never feel fully secure when the dull knife of Regret is constantly pressing down upon one, and that universal truth adds spice to a dish of homestyle potatoes (as does the salt and pepper you add, which are without metaphorical significance but add to the flavor).

• Vs. a box of Batter Mix of Hope:

	You poke at the Batter of Hope with the Butterknife of Regret, but Hope is fluid while Regret is solid, and the Hope flows around the Regret, unharmed. The end result is a dish that's hardly high art or haute cuisine.

• Vs. a bundle of Meat of Happiness:

	You wield the Butterknife of Regret against the Meat of Happiness. The dull, steady pressure of Regret finally rends asunder the Happiness, turning the meat into a pile of sliced Canadian Bacon. It's a beautiful metaphor and a delicious dish.

• Vs. a carton of Eggs of Confidence:

	You poke the Eggs of Confidence with the Butterknife of Regret, but the confidence and regret fail to mingle in an artistically satisfying way. The juxtaposition just doesn't capture true suffering. The end result isn't art, and it's barely food.

• Vs. a loaf of Bread of Wonder:

	You slice off some of the Bread of Wonder with the Butterknife of Regret. Wonder at the beauty of the natural world can't defeat the dull ache of Regret, and soon the bread is toasted, buttered, and ready for consumption. How deliciously tragic.

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