I received a gift card to a local kitchen store for my birthday. I wanted to get something I that I needed and would use often. The amount on the card wasn't substantial enough for me to purchase the chef's knife I coveted ($200.00), neither the 3 cup food processor ($90.00), nor the Viking stand mixer ($549).
It was enough, however, to cover the cost of a large microplane. As one who loves cheese (the older, the firmer, the better), this seemed ideal. I spent a couple of minutes trying to discern the best way to remove and replace the plastic protective cover--sliding it off and on, or snapping it off and on. It just so happens that snapping is the faster and safer method.
As I struggled to slip the plane back into the cover, it jumped from hand and grazed its razor sharp teeth against the outside of my thumb, taking a very fine layer of dry skin with it. This experience was actually highly reminiscent of an incident in my childhood, when in my one childhood act of disobedience, I entered my father's workshop, picked up his carpenter's plane, and nearly sliced my thumb off.
Fearing that this particular microplane may have developed a taste for human flesh, I replaced it on the hook and took home a different, albeit identical, microplane.
I hope whoever does purchase the flesh-hungry microplane washes it prior to use. And I dearly hope I never read in the paper that a local resident who was attacked and kill by a microplane with a taste for human flesh. I'm just not sure I could bear the guilt.