Eddie tested his binds. Tight. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Bobby the Boar dropped the blade on the table next to him. It delivered an impressive ka-thunk. He took off his wife-beater, revealing his hirsute, barrel chest.
“Here we are. You, me, and my buddy.”
“You mean the knife?
“Yah. My Mark I trench knife. It’s almost seven inches long with a cast bronze handle. It has a triangular blade and a guard designed to protect the knuckles. It was designed by …”
Eddie nodded off. Bobby slapped him awake.
“Oh, it’s Bobby the BORE. Now I get it.”
In it went.