In Honor of becoming a BeckerHead...whats under my Grivory skirt?

KiljoyKutlery

KiljoyKutlery

KILJOY KutLery, hand made in Luling Texas
Knifemaker / Craftsman / Service Provider
Joined
Jun 9, 2006
Messages
5,510
Well,
I was messing around with my PSK and my BK2...like I do.
And decided I would try to fit stuff in there:D...it wasn't easy, but I found some useful stuff that made the cut.
Under the Grivory Skirt items:
BK2 (of course)
mini compass
fishing hooks, lead, and spinners
fire tinder
snare wire
safety pin

Whats under your skirt?

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I had to whittle little channels in the STRUTS off of the center hole..for the wire.
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gunknifenut hates me. any becker he got from me is gone. every becker i got from him i kept :)

unmarked sterile camillus magnum camp. yar. mine :)

now, gotta unload those fallknivens ;>
 
It's darker now.

Dark, and colder by the minute too. What's left of the pallid winter sun is masked by a heavy layer of clouds and swirling masses of snow. The ground, the horizon, and the sky are all barely distinguishable from each other... not that the man trapped in this wasteland is concerned with his surroundings any longer.

For one long minute he's gripped by pure despair and cannot move. Crouched under the skeletal branches of something that hasn't seen green in twenty years, his breath coming in ragged gulps, he stares listlessly at his fists. And then he's moving, flailing the knife he's holding against the trunk of the dead tree as the voice of something that no longer sounds exactly human gasps out the same phrase over and over again.

Despair again, immobile, and just as quickly comes another fit. This one is weaker, and doesn't last as long. The same muttering.

Minutes pass, then almost an hour, and finally he tips over and drops to the bony white that could be sky or could be ground. No observer, if there was one, would be able to tell the difference anymore.

If there was an observer, he or she might have leaned over the frozen body to try to hear just what exactly was so important to this desperate soul that it was the last thing he said or thought. This observer would have to lean close, uncomfortably close to lips that were slowly changing from blue to white, in order to hear the phrase one last time:

"Allen... wrench...."
 
BRL said:
It's darker now.

Dark, and colder by the minute too. What's left of the pallid winter sun is masked by a heavy layer of clouds and swirling masses of snow. The ground, the horizon, and the sky are all barely distinguishable from each other... not that the man trapped in this wasteland is concerned with his surroundings any longer.

For one long minute he's gripped by pure despair and cannot move. Crouched under the skeletal branches of something that hasn't seen green in twenty years, his breath coming in ragged gulps, he stares listlessly at his fists. And then he's moving, flailing the knife he's holding against the trunk of the dead tree as the voice of something that no longer sounds exactly human gasps out the same phrase over and over again.

Despair again, immobile, and just as quickly comes another fit. This one is weaker, and doesn't last as long. The same muttering.

Minutes pass, then almost an hour, and finally he tips over and drops to the bony white that could be sky or could be ground. No observer, if there was one, would be able to tell the difference anymore.

If there was an observer, he or she might have leaned over the frozen body to try to hear just what exactly was so important to this desperate soul that it was the last thing he said or thought. This observer would have to lean close, uncomfortably close to lips that were slowly changing from blue to white, in order to hear the phrase one last time:

"Allen... wrench...."
Click to expand...

I lol'd. :D
 
I can't get that photo uploading thing down. Soon enough though.
I keep a small chunk of fat wood, match striker and some matches. Just gotta get around lining it with inner tube and i got a water tight S*&# has hit the fan fire starting system.
 
BRL said:
It's darker now.

Dark, and colder by the minute too. What's left of the pallid winter sun is masked by a heavy layer of clouds and swirling masses of snow. The ground, the horizon, and the sky are all barely distinguishable from each other... not that the man trapped in this wasteland is concerned with his surroundings any longer.

For one long minute he's gripped by pure despair and cannot move. Crouched under the skeletal branches of something that hasn't seen green in twenty years, his breath coming in ragged gulps, he stares listlessly at his fists. And then he's moving, flailing the knife he's holding against the trunk of the dead tree as the voice of something that no longer sounds exactly human gasps out the same phrase over and over again.

Despair again, immobile, and just as quickly comes another fit. This one is weaker, and doesn't last as long. The same muttering.

Minutes pass, then almost an hour, and finally he tips over and drops to the bony white that could be sky or could be ground. No observer, if there was one, would be able to tell the difference anymore.

If there was an observer, he or she might have leaned over the frozen body to try to hear just what exactly was so important to this desperate soul that it was the last thing he said or thought. This observer would have to lean close, uncomfortably close to lips that were slowly changing from blue to white, in order to hear the phrase one last time:

"Allen... wrench...."
Click to expand...

THat was good!
I didn't know, until this year, how many talented writers hang out in Beckerland.
I laughed out loud on that one.
 
Bladite said:
gunknifenut hates me. any becker he got from me is gone. every becker i got from him i kept :)

unmarked sterile camillus magnum camp. yar. mine :)

now, gotta unload those fallknivens ;>
Click to expand...

I dont hate you Bladite..if it wasnt for you, I wouldnt have spent all of my savings and be in the poor house...no, you are my buddy.
Kukri's, Beckers, gunshows, knifeshows, websites with super deals...nah, we're tight.

Seriously, whens the next local show? I will look under the couch cushions and see what I can find.
We going or what...??
 
BRL said:
"...Allen... wrench...."
Click to expand...

Got ya covered.

Some of these:

5206810710_44fc5f8f7e_b.jpg


With a notch carved in the middle of each one, will hold one of these:

5543822040_5c0620feb3_b.jpg


Perfectly. Where it sits in the little nook behind the sheath, the allen wrench is protected from stuff that might snag it, and even if it did, it wouldn't matter, cause it is ridiculously hard to get it out of there anyways.
 
gunknifenut said:
I dont hate you Bladite..if it wasnt for you, I wouldnt have spent all of my savings and be in the poor house...no, you are my buddy.
Kukri's, Beckers, gunshows, knifeshows, websites with super deals...nah, we're tight.

Seriously, whens the next local show? I will look under the couch cushions and see what I can find.
We going or what...??
Click to expand...

NCCA Knife Show
Sunday, August 7th 2011
Marlboro

been a while since I've gone to one. jerks keep changing dates last minute. to earlier dates even. oiy! waste of a morning getting there more than once now. one of these days, i'll remember to start checking every week for a month in advance ;)

got me some stuff to trade out. patrol machete :> cammy magnum camp. fallknivens. yar. hahahahaha. maybe. i should revive my sales thread. too many damn knives.
 
i keep thinking it would be awesome to have a "button" bolted onto the sheath that accepts a THREADED allen piece, with JUST enough sticking out to engage the handle...

could probably take a normal machine bolt of the right size (thicker), file the hex on the edge, touch up the thread, heat treat it, and nylalock it onto the sheath, and voila. perhaps several. in case you lost the sheath ;)

OR replace the bolts with screws slots, and have something handy (again on sheath) that can engage the slot.

oh, i know, velcro the bloody handles on ;)
 
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