You hid so stealthily from me while I knit the sleeve of my sweater, waiting until the sleeve was soaking wet to expose yourself. You placed yourselves on the sleeve right where it would crease at the elbow so that you knew I would see you every time I wore the sweater. And you did it all to torment me. You knew that being faced the wrong way would cause you to catch the light differently than all the other stitches in the broken rib pattern. You wanted to draw attention to yourselves and away from the sweater as a whole.
Multiple people told me that you were just two stitches and no one would notice, that you weren't worth the effort, and that I should just let you be. But you and I know that isn't true. From the moment you showed your faces, you should have known that you were doomed. I could not allow you to besmirch my sweater, and so you had to go.
I admit that I was intimidated by you. I knew that I would have to take scissors to my finished sleeve and unravel several stitches around you in order to be rid of you, but I was not going to let you have the better of me. I came prepared.
I separated you from the other stitches. You should have known then that you weren't long for this world, but I suppose that you perhaps could have doubted me... perhaps you thought me a coward. But I wouldn't relent. Armed with a large supply of chocolate, I took the plunge. I pulled out my scissors, snipped the stitch between you, and soon you were gone.
But the challenge was still ahead of me. I then had to rejoin the rows of stitches above and below where you had been. While you knew my skill at kitchenering together knit rows, you knew that I had never before attempted to kitchener broken rib, much less would I have chosen to do so voluntarily. You deliberately put me in that position in an attempt to stop me from removing you in the first place. But I refused to let you thwart me. I admit to a few false starts, but in the end, I triumphed over you. You are no more. Aside from the ends I now have to weave in, it is as though you never existed. Ever.
I confess that I feel rather smug at your demise and the perfectly knit stitches that now sit in your place. I do not regret your loss in the slightest. I suppose I could be noble and state that I appreciate the opportunity that you created for me to expand my knitting skills, but I won't. What you did was underhanded and sneaky. I am glad to be rid of you. Pull that dastardly trick again and you will meet the same fate.
Let this be a warning to you.
--A Bitter Knitter