Okay, so I may have started this blog a bit too far in advance of starting actual classes for my expert knitter course. I’m working on some convertible mittens right now and haven’t had a finished object to post. So until I get some decent material to write about, here is a funny story I wrote about some “cursed yarn.”
(Backstory: A fellow Raveler was convinced her yarn was cursed, because it wouldn’t cooperate. As seen on This Week in Ravelry’s Forum Funnies!)
The knitter sat at her computer, browsing Ravelry, her feet kept warm by the faithful but dim-witted hound draped over them. She was in the middle of an exciting friendpile, friending newbies left and right, when a dreadful pounding sounded at her front door. The dim-witted hound jumped up and threw herself at the door, adding her howls to the cacophony. The knitter sighed and pushed back her chair. Muttering to herself, she went to the door, beating back the frantic pooch.
Opening the door, she was confronted by a menacing figure, draped in a large black cloak with two bright red glowing circles where eyes should be.
“Listen, kid,” she said. “Halloween is still two weeks away. I’m not giving any candy out until then. And even then, you’re too old for trick-or-treating anyway. Now beat it!”
She went to close the door, but the figure reached out a bony hand and caught the door, holding it open.
“I am not trick-or-treating,” growled the figure ominously. “I have come for your Dream in Color Starry!”
The knitter gasped and pushed harder on the door. “You’re not getting my beautiful yarn, you fiend of hell!”
The figure sighed. “I am not a fiend of hell, just a shaman employed by Dream in Color. You see, the owners of DIC sold their souls to have such beautiful colors and gorgeously soft yarns. As a consequence, one skein out of every five thousand is evil. Usually we can divine which skein it is and prevent it from getting into the hands of a knitter. This particular skein escaped (they’re very cunning when they’re evil). If you had tried to knit with it, it would have been very uncooperative. The more you try to use it, the more evil it gets, until it gets evil enough and tries to kill you!”
The knitter gasped. ”I’ve been trying to knit with it several times! First I tried a shawl, then some Viper Pilot socks, but it’s just not working!”
“You are lucky I arrived when I did. One more project would have done it. In fact, LOOK OUT!!!!elebenty!!” The figure lurched forward, with its boney hands outstretched.
The knitter gasped, and staggered backwards, away from the reaching hands. But then she put her hand up to her neck. The DIC Was slowly inching itself around her neck! Several strands were already in place and gradually tightening.
“What do I do?” cried the knitter in terror.
“Have you any Super Saver handy?” the figure answered. “A sacrifice of ackrillic will sometimes appease the evil. It likes to see the destruction of yarn and the burning smell of ackrillic will usually make it very happy.”
“No, of course I don’t have any of that junk around,” the knitter sniffed in superiority.
“Now is not the time to be a yarn snob, woman!” cried the figure. “Your very life depends on it!”
“Oh, well, yeah, I guess I have some over here,” the knitter admitted, shamefaced.
The figure grabbed the Super Saver and ran over to the stove. He grabbed a pot (“Not that one! That’s a nice one!” moaned the knitter, to no avail). The Super Saver was thrust into the pot, and a lit match dropped into it. An acrid smell of evil wafted up from the pot. From the DIC a grey cloud drifted across the room towards the pot, and hovered over the burning, melting ackrillic. The figure grabbed the pot and muttered incantations over it. Slowly, and with a sound like a thousand dying squirrels, the cloud dissipated.
“This yarn is cleansed,” the figure intoned. “You may now use it for whatever you wish. But be warned – the fates don’t take DIC lightly and will smite anyone who uses it for a silly pom-pom on top of a hat. And next time you buy DIC, be sure that it is the non-cursed variety. Burn a little Super Saver as a sacrifice before use, and you’ll be all set.”
“How can I ever thank you?” the knitter asked.
“No thanks necessary,” replied the figure. “Just be sure to swatch, look both ways before crossing the street, and don’t wash whites with colors.”
With those final words of advice, the figure disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the knitter lived happily ever after.