by Annie Neugebauer
No one ever thought the knitting would become a problem. I mean, everyone has hobbies, right? But in the next three years, Beatrice was overwhelmed with an addiction to the yarn. She relished the feel of those tiny fibers slicked down by sweaty palms, the lithe clinking of the aluminum needles tapping and parting in a rhythm that she soon found she craved—no, needed—in order to stay sane. By the time people realized it was a problem, it was too late: she’d knitted over all of the windows and doors. Which is what brings us here today, to mourn Beatrice Stitchens, who in an uncanny accident, fell down the stairs onto her knitting needles and was unable to call the ambulance for assistance, as by then, she’d knitted down the phone.
Annie Neugebauer is a novelist, poet, blogger, and all-around dabbler of writing. She has poetry upcoming in the Wichita Falls Literature and Art Review, Texas Poetry Calendar 2011, and Volume III of Versifico. Check out more of her words here.