||[Jan. 18th, 2006|10:32 pm]
The Green Day Knitting Community
|||||Le Tigre- Whats Yr Take on Cassavetes?||]|
Title: Check Your Gauge
Disclaimer: Dispite cloning efforts, I do not own Tre, Mike or Billie Joe. Or any of their clones. Though Rose owns an alien!tre fetus.
Rating: PG-13 for lebrets and later, satisfying uses for knitting needles.
Notes: A fun smut spinnoff in the future, but for now, loud uses of the inartaisa. You don't have to understand knitting to get the fic, but it makes it better, I believe. This is a short chapter, I just want to test the waters.
It started out quite innocent, really, as most tales do. He was out on a midnight (ok, 7:30) coffee run for Mike, God only knows why, and got distracted.
As most tales do.
While he was waiting in line for the 7 pounds (you can never tell with Mike) of ground coffee, he saw a young woman talking energetically to a young boy, obviously scaring him a bit. Attracted by her labret, gauges, green hair and dark eyeliner, he found himself walking over to listen to what she was yelling about.
“No, I’m not sewing! KNITTING! K-N-I-T-T-I-N-G! You’re old enough to know by now. Go play with that shiny thing with beads.” She promptly returned to the mess of yarn she seemed tangled in. After much grunting and pulling, she looked up to see Tre Cool staring at her.
“Can I help you?”
“I was just…er…well…I was wondering what you were doing, exactly.”
“Didn’t you hear my rant at fucking Little Jimmy over there? Knitting. Why do you ask?”
“Well, really? It’s a bad excuse to talk to you. But tell me what you’re doing.”
“Well, I’m making a sweater. The chart-see, on the coffee table- tells me how many stitches to make in black, how many in white. If I follow it correctly, I’ll have little skulls all over my sweater.” She began fiddling with a little cylindrical thing on the table, and moved it from ‘4’ to ‘5.’
And so it began. Midnight search-engines and lots of grunting were common-place for Tre, surfing the web to find the perfect pattern to work on. Through the Dookie Tour, he ended up making:
a pair of lopsided socks
...and a bag to hold his bone chip.
But it was kept secret. When it would be dismissed as another stupid Tre antic, why should he put himself out there? His new passion kept him up many nights, and the new calluses forming on different parts of his thumbs did not go unnoticed- but were very appreciated by Mike and Billie.