Players across the battlefield approached today with dread. Except for Deb - may she rest in peace - everyone knew that THEY could be one of the 11 with socks hurtling their way.
Who went down? How many are in mortal danger tomorrow?
All in good time my dear readers.
First, we have a late breaking report from yesterday's action. Our brave embedded reporter, Joe Socks, managed to dodge the fire from Peggy's fierce needles and snap this picture of the first kill.
Along with a few close-ups of the socks.
A mere few hours separated Peggy's devastating hit and the surprise attack by Michelle M. MM, as she is known in darker circles, arrived at Jenna's house and almost took collateral damage when she surprised Jenna's unsuspecting grandmother with the deadly socks. This is what happens when non-knitters get in the way of our needles!
Little did she know that Jenna (or knarlyknitter for you ravelry folks) had already successfully put her own kill into motion. With the US Postal Service as her unwitting accomplice, knarlyknitter murdered Cheryl B. (mathgeek00).
From beyond her fibery grave, Cheryl writes,
"As I sat at work (after hours) finishing my first sock for the sock war, I must have had a sixth sense... why else would one decide to knit in a cubicle instead of in her comfy house? Must have been because of what was waiting at home...
At 6:07pm on Tuesday, February 10th, I pulled into my driveway, excited to go inside and cast on for sock #2. I stopped briefly to open the garage door when I turned and saw it... a white puffy package sticking out of the mailing box. I pulled the car in to the garage and my excitement started to wane (wain? wayne? :))... I get up to the mailbox and sure enough... there's a R.I.P. on the package... I've been killed!!
Enclosed were a cozy pair of purple and green Ironman socks (at least I got killed by my favorite color!) and the note:
Though you fought well, dear Cheryl,
these socks must be your peril.
For your assassin, she's no quitter...
you have been slain by
knarlyknitter
So thank you, Jenna (knarlyknitter) and I leave you with my final dying words (and my apologies to Edgar Allen Poe):
'And now was acknowledged the presence of the Socks. They had come like a thief in the night. And dropped the reveler in the blood-bedewed halls of her revel, and died she in the despairing posture of her fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the knitter. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Socks held illimitable dominion over all.'"
Cheryl is not lonely in death tonight. She was preceded by Michelle W. (mooshell) who was struck down by David (david88). A gorgeous pair of socks led to her demise. So while we mourn her gone, we know her toes are warm and cozy.
Another one of our intrepid reporters happened upon the scene (who is tipping them off?).
North Yarmouth, ME - 4:45 p.m. ET
It was MURDER! MURDER I tell you, plain and simple. She was a trooper in all this (as incidentally was her father - though not the same thing, actually), working diligently, frantically trying to keep herself in the battle and assassinate her chosen opponent in the state of Missouri. Alas, it was not to be so. Her choice of fine, fingerling yarn and lack of experience with patterns was her downfall, as was her anal and foolish attention to detail, and her inability to let go of the occasional (okay lots of) mistakes. Three, maybe four restarts later (it is rumored she may have used a magnifying glass to find mistakes - but that story is unsubstantiated at this posting), she succumbed to yet another murderous assassin who waited, unbeknownst to her, in the dark shadows of historic Topsham. Sending his fibery weapon in an innocent enough looking yellow mailing package, the stealthy knitter David caught her with her needles down and it was all over for fair Michelle.
Her pride was her downfall - her desire for the perfect sock. Alack and alas, Michelle Wainer has succumbed to a sock-inflicted and certainly fatal (well, yah...she's like...DEAD) wound. Tomorrow, her hopeless attempts will be sent out to the post, to the man who her brought about her untimely end in less than four days time. Her family mourns her passing, but celebrates her attempt at keeping the good fight. Sadly, this author has been told by an anonymous source that those she called friends may be frothing at the bit for her meager, yet delightfully yummy stash of yarn.
By Ida Wantsmore Yarn
In late breaking news, JenKC has had a premonition of her own death. Will her second sight be able to save her? What will become of poor Jen?
And what of our friends across the country and over the border in Canada. What powers have they invoked to evade death so long? How will they fare in the light of day tomorrow?
15 pairs of socks in transit tonight.
Sleep well all.