From Chapter 5 of HardCore Mother:

Meryll Piltz is the man who owns the shop. Mother met him as one of her pick-ups.

Passages of Mother's thoughts have often been recorded here. In one chapter she described the type of men she'd share her illicit act with, her singular and peculiar appetite. Meryll Piltz fits that description. In fact Meryll Piltz was often referred to as Filthy Piltz, the epithet Filthy sticking to him because it accurately described his regressive grooming habits, as well as his lack of chivalry in sexual dealings.

Piltz is the one who had been sadistic and pulled Mother's nose. His shop was not located among other shops along a busy thoroughfare full of foot and auto traffic and mass transit routes. It was on a quiet residential street. There were display windows to this shop but in them you saw nothing except dust-coated Venetian blinds.

"Nobody knows Filthy Piltz is here, Kiddo, that's why the stuff he has is good. If everybody knew about it, all his best would've long been copped off and he'd have nothin' but factory seconds from Case." This was a reputable brand of knife to young Scrinvami's understanding. "Case don't issue seconds," he replied haughtily. He was sanctimoniously enthused and in no mood for effeminate iconoclasm.

This store was the place in question, when Scrinvami had taunted his sister about him and Mother and their plans to go shopping together. It sold weapons generally (antique swords, some guns), but mostly knives. In went Scrinvami followed by Mom. The first thing they saw was Piltz. "Here we are, M.P., as promised," sez she. "This is my boy, Kiddo, a handsome lad to be sure, a future connoisseur among connoisseurs." "Hi," said Scrinvami. "I need some good deals." "Well, look around, young 'un, and see what you like. Do you have any vintage in mind?" "I got everything in mind," said Scrinvami. "He's going to look at a lot of things and he'll want something that appeals to him personally. How are you feelin' today, M.P.?"

Mother and M.P. gabbed. Scrinvami started looking. What with his non-stop delight, what with his wanting to finger one item after the other, what with him continuously asking questions, and before long, Kiddo's enthusiasm became infectious. Piltz got more interested in his own wares and not only did he get interested but so did Mother. Everyone began to have a good time. Tray after tray of old knives and cutlery were pulled out from under the counters and placed on top. Scrinvami was going nuts with joy, ogling the lean claw-shaped knife blades from Paris or Milan, Cairo or Istanbul or Shanghai or Baghdad or Tehran or Old Delhi or Singapore or New York City; utensils with goldwork on their handles, with brass and silver, with inlays of ebony, ivory and teak and bone and Mother of Pearl. "Filthy Piltz's Hoard," it would be called.

At first, Mother was casual in her interest. But then, she saw the implement. No sooner that, than she keened in on it. The inordinate began to possess her. The breath of her familiar incubus blew over her. She saw the implement as beautiful and odd. Her mind gushed with the exotic purposes it must have. "What is that thing!?" She asked Meryll Piltz, putting her finger to the glass counter top, pointing to one of the items beneath it. "That doesn't look like a pocket knife to me," she claimed. "That's no pocket knife." said Piltz "What is it? What's it for?" "That, my dear, is a straight razor." Piltz claimed taking up the item proudly. "Handmade in Belgium. I've dated it around about the year 1885." It was a piece of nice workmanship. "A straight razor?" Mother probed. "Sure, this is what men had to shave with before the safety razor was invented. Gillette came out with the first safety razor in 1905." Piltz, already having taken it in hand, folded the blade out.

Mother gasped at the sight. Sez Mr. Piltz, "You got to be careful with these things. Straight razors are sharp." Mother heard that! She began to girlishly fidget with her fingers in the vicinity of her forehead, her brows and her eyes. "Oh! I can't even stand to look at that thing." "There's no problem. It's like a rattlesnake. You simply handle it with due caution!"

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