the passing of 5 noble knitting warriors.
Last night at 9:45pm, Liz and her accomplice Kim - a seasoned killer - struck at the home of Christine. I will let her tell the story:
"I heard the doorbell ring, looked at my husband, and yelled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" at the front door, so loudly I'm surprised I didn't wake my daughter up. But it was no use - they were standin' there giggling and shivering and packin' heat (in the form of socks). So I let 'em in, and they killed me. Pictures were taken, hilarity ensued, socks-in-progress were graciously (almost eagerly) handed over, still on the needles.
In any event, my husband now knows there are at least two other crazy knitters in Maine. And I disproved his conspiracy theory -- he suggested that this would be a great way for a group of people to get one unsuspecting fool (me) to knit them all socks."
Liz got away with the new pair of socks and these fun pictures.
Then, the knitting gods of war decided to even the score. Kim went down at 12:20pm when FedEx knocked on her door with a package from Sharon.
Teresa reports her death with such vivid detail, you can feel the fear:
"It’s true … I too have fallen victim to an unseen assassin. It happened late yesterday afternoon … February 4th at 5:48 pm to be exact …
I knew from the beginning that I was a marked woman … I thought that I would be “safe” for maybe a week … or at least a couple more days. It was a day like any other day (except for the target on my back). I had battled hard over the weekend and although I hadn’t made the advances I had hoped I felt as though I were still holding my own. That changed … oh, how that changed. I had worked late and was anxious to be home to once again pick up my weapons of choice. I decided that I should probably go to the post office hoping that they would still be open (secretly hoping they had closed for the day).
I pulled up out front. The place was deserted. Was it even open I wondered? Maybe I should just drive off? It was eerie … I felt this unshakable urge to check my box. I shut the car off and took a deep breath. I checked the rearview mirror and the sidewalks ... all was clear. I opened the car door and went up the steps. Looking through the door I saw the postmaster standing behind the counter as though he were waiting for me. Feeling uneasy I went inside and walked over to my box. Peering through the window I saw it. The lone yellow card letting me know a package had arrived. Shaking off the feeling of dread that had descended upon me like a tightening noose I opened the box and took out the offending card. It seemed to vibrate in my hand.
I squared my shoulders and walked up to the counter where the postmaster waited for me. Trying to still the quiver that was in my hand I handed him what I feared was my death sentence. With a sly smile he asked what box number and I told him. He returned to the window with a small brown package wrapped in tape. I looked at the unfamiliar return address and knew at once that it had happened. My eyes filled with tears and a knot formed in my stomach as my assassin’s shot hit it’s intended mark. With a concerned look on his face the postmaster asked if I was all right. “You don’t understand ,” I told him … “I’ve just been assassinated …”
Accepting the package I stumbled from the post office and into my car. The drive home was a long one. How had I not seen my assassin? How could they have been so close and me so unaware …
I mailed my sock in progress this morning (8:19 am to be exact) to my assassin. I commended her on a job well down and wished her great success. Her next target has no idea how swiftly and silently her demise will occur … ."
The credit for the kill goes to Diana. Congratulations!
We also have the second reported death from Missouri.
"Terri accepted her demise with grace on Tuesday, February 5, at 12:40 PM CST. Grace was had because of the beautiful socks that Jennifer air-shipped to Terri."
Jennifer sent the following pictures of the deadly weapon before they were sent to Terri:
Like Kim, Liz could not count on her own killer skills to help her evade the hand of death. This report came in this evening:
"Liz Duncan
2/1/08-2/5/08
Liz survived for 4 glorious days. She was able to elimate one target, before becoming a target herself. She leaves behind a beautiful pair of socks that she wills to Deb. Ironically the same person who killed her.
Liz lies peacefully in her little piece of knitting heaven with wonderfully warm socks and ghirardelli dark chocolate, while making her felted slippers."
Deb made sure Liz's demise was as comfortable as possible, with Noro socks and sweet chocolate.
A little angel helped speed the socks to their target.
Deb even included a poem to soften the blow.
Death by Needles
I hope they do fit
These socks I did knit
Special for you
For our “Battle” Debut.
Now that you’re dead
Please no tears do shed.
You deserve to be fed
Angel food instead.
May you enjoy this chocolate
I have sent you to eat
While wearing new socks
To warm your feet.
Your Knitting Sister
Deb Cote
Rest well our dear departed.
For the many who remain, beware.