Westworld, Again

If we had time, we'd probably be making costumes for Halloween.
I'd be Delores, and he'd be the man with no name in black.  

Anyway, if you haven't seen the show, this blog isn't going to make much sense, sorry. You should watch though, it's good.

The other day we were in the kitchen when for no reason at all Master grabbed my throat and propelled me backwards across the room and up against the cabinets, saying "It's time for us to get reacquainted now, Delores," in his scary Ed Harris voice.   He pulled up the drawer to my left and pulled out...

...a pizza cutter, in its little plastic sleeve.  It may be one of the sharpest non-knife implements we have, but still, it's a pizza cutter. 

I just flat burst out laughing.  

He rolled it across my neck a few times (with the sleeve still on) and he was laughing too.

Then he put it back and pulled out a heavy metal spatula, which he used on my butt a few times as we were both still giggling.  
Er, well, I was giggling and he had a manly chortle.