Sunday, June 5, 2011

Apocalyptic story while sewing

My mind wanders in odd directions sometimes. 

As I was stitching up a tear in my car seat, I imagined another scenario involving needle and thread.

Scene - post-apocalyptic America

Dark-haired, very stern man, with beard stubble, wearing dirty camouflage jacket.  He is obviously the leader of the (unseen) rabble.  He bends over an unconscious man on the dirt floor, holding a needle and thread. 

He and I are the only conscious people in the room.  For some reason, I am standing over the two of them, watching, with my arms crossed.

Leader is sewing up a gaping wound in the patient's arm.  One stitch has gone in and he moves the needle a half an inch over to start the second stitch.

Me, mildly:  "You know the wound will pucker if you sew it like that." 

Leader, growls, trying to be intimidating:  "Who's the doctor here?"

Me, not intimidated:  "Not you.  Not me.  But I DO know how to sew."

Leader, scowling: "So?"

Me: "So if you sew it like that, the wound will pucker." 

Leader, sneering:  "So the scar will be ugly.  Big deal."

Me: "So the wound will get infected if it isn't sewn together right."

Fortunately, I finished sewing up the car seat before the Leader could task me with sewing up the wounded man's arm. 

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