It is time for a short story since a lot of people are getting mugged with knifes... About 4 years ago, I was the victim of a "farm attack". It was a friend's parents place and I looked after the pets while they were away. So one day, I arrived on the farm, unlocked the front door and stepped inside. I saw a cupboard door open accross the halway. I walked across to it to go and close it. The f**ker was hiding behind an adjacent wall and as I stepped passed him, him came after me with a steak knife. Dunno why he chose a steak knive as there where big ass knives in the kitchen. Lickilly as he moved, he brushed against a painting hanging on the wall. This made me turn around... He stabbed me through the left hand as I tried to keep him off me...I landed I right hook (on instinct mainly) right on his jaw und knocked him the hell out. He went down like a ton of bricks... I didn't hang around to get his number...I just ran outa' the house, into the bakkie and sped off... When the police arrived they found the knocked out guy still knocked out...He couldn't speak because he had a dislocated/broken? jaw. f**ker. My right hand was cut from the "vuishou" and my left hand lost all feelling in the middle finger. I can still smell his stink ass to this day... Point of this story is: Don't try and be hero. I later found out he had some friends waiting in the kitchen. They had guns...I was lucky... You can outrun a knife. But you can't outrun a bullet.
