39: Exclamation
I was sick last week. I’m still sick, but here we go.
Elmore Leonard told writers to use only one or two exclamation points per 100,000 words. But I’m from the Choire Sicha generation.
Exclamation
I had only just graduated high school, hadn’t even started college! And here I was a salesman! Selling kitchen knives, of all things! I couldn’t sell a single one! Finally, I sold one to my mom! A jackknife, if you’ll believe it, for my dad’s birthday! It came in the mail—knives sent by mail! And the package ended up in our car! Not on just any day but on the day I was supposed to fly out to Mexico—on a church missions trip! And here I am, eighteen years old, and my mom’s driving me to the airport! And what do I decide to do but open the package! Not just that, I open the knife! Well, I’m pretty proud of myself aren’t I! Proud of this merchandise, showing off its safety catch! I try to close the knife and, get this, I cut open my hand! Next summer, no way am I doing all that again! I’m selling donuts at the donut shop! Won’t touch a knife! Whew!