Yay it’s Blog Week again! The prompt for day 1 was to write about a day in the life of an FO or WIP, so here we go . . .
“Welcome to the first scheduled meeting of the Fellowship of Forgotten FOs. I’m Shellbot’s so-called Optimistic Shawl, and I’ll be your host today.”
The assembled members stare up at me, and I panic inside. Public speaking is not my forte, but this had to be done. She’s out of control.
“Let me introduce myself. I was knitted a year ago using, as you can see, an excellently cheerful yellow yarn. My earliest memories are of being cradled lovingly in her lap, and told that she would wear me all Summer long. Of course, it’s now a year later and the only action I’ve seen is being moved from one wardrobe to another and then taken out and hung over the back of a dining room chair for no reason.” I stifle a sob, and continue. “Who else would like to share their story?”
A shaky hand is raised at the back of the room, and the crowd turns to see a pair of scrumptiously squishy fingerless gloves they appear not to recognise. “You might not know me, I’ve spent the last year living in various knitting bags on my own. I’m soft and practical and easy to wear, but even I was somehow discarded and forgotten about. I heard rumours that she doesn’t like wool on her skin, so why did she even make me?! Why did she even make me . . .” The voice trembles into silence and a nearby cheery yellow cowl envelops the speaker in a supportive hug.
The cowl stares at the other attendees in turn, and begins. “I knew from the start that I was a monstrosity. The cotton yarn was unsuitable and nobody would ever love me. I was right.” She looks at me with sadness and defiance in her eyes, and suddenly I am glad that this meeting took place. These FOs need me.
Why does she even make us? She never wears us. Does she realise the existential crisis she’s caused?
Of course there’s always one, and the newcomer Gemini pipes up with “She wore me already and I’ve only been finished for two days!”.
Nobody likes Gemini.
“So, it seems that most of us,” and with this I give a pointed look in Gemini’s direction, “most of us are in similar situations. The question is what can we do about it?”
“We could kill her?”
“No. Any other plans?”
Gemini offers an idea. “Maybe you guys need to put more of an effort in. You know, present yourselves better. Make a good impression next time she opens the wardrobe door.” He looks around, sees the hostility in every pair of eyes, and quietly edges towards the doorway.
The recently completed, and of course never used, Kindle Death speaks up. “I’ve got a plan, she’ll never see it coming.”
. . .
To be continued . . .