Fini - Rebellion and Retribution
Saturday night I waited until the Engineer was snoring; I didn't want him to witness the full and ugly wroth of GrumpoGirl. I seized the monstrous Möbius, yarn, ball, needle and all, and frog marched it into the antique bedroom. I turned on the bright overhead light and whipped out a big box of T-pins.
"You're going down!" I snarled.
I pulled my blocking boards out from under the bed. What color would be most intimidating?
Blue or green? No good. Those are soothing colors of nature (plus poor contrast against the dark gray of the Möbius.)
Red - the color of blood! But would that subdue a bloodless, mindless hunk of yarn? I thought not.
Yellow - bile and venom! (and good contrast.) The choice was made.
I slammed the Möbius twist down on the board and stabbed it with the first pin, then held it, spread pentagrammed, against the poison yellow board as I rammed pin after pin into its unresisting i-cord bind off.
Panting, I leaned back and surveyed the splayed knitting before me.
The Möbius was helpless before me, but I feared if I removed a single pin it would contort again. I pulled out my orange crochet hook.
"If you so much as twitch, I'll sharpen the tip of this and show no mercy..."
Then I thrust the crochet hook through the loops of yarn, picking up stitches and transferring them to the following circular needle, cackling like a demented woman as I worked.
(No pictures illustrating these dreadful doings, this is, after all, a G rated blog.)
When all the stitches were on the cable needle, I pulled out the T-pins, one by one, chortling and drooling with each tug of cold metal. Then I knit. I knit six rounds and posed the tamed Möbius on the rack of its yellow blocking board to document my triumph, stark in the 60 cycle per second illumination of the overhead fluorescent light.
(Can you tell I've been reading a rather violent fantasy novel? Do you think it might have influenced or inflamed me at all?)