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I was a Boy Scout for five minutes when I was twelve…ish until I got kicked out for being a disruptive little prick (well that’s how I remember it) and I had the knife at that point in time. There are two knives that I would like to be reunited with (but never will be) that one and my dad’s pig sticker that his brother made for him.
My old pig sticker, with a bone handle, is stuck in a stud at the Bach garage holding my coils of weed eater nylon!
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