“Finn!” Puck says as soon as he steps into the house after work on Friday night. “We forgot. We’ve got to cast on!”
“I wasn’t planning to cast on for those socks until after the mar— ohhhh! We need to make our hats!” Finn says.
“Right! We made all of those to send to DC and even to Indianapolis, but we forgot about ourselves for tomorrow in South Bend!” Puck sets down his bag and takes off his coat. “Do we even have any pink left?”
“Let me check,” Finn says, ducking into the yarn room. “Cascade scraps. Half a skein of Pop Rocks. Yes! We still have both the Squoosh Candyland pinks!”
“DK or worsted? And let’s rock-paper-scissors for the Castle.”
“Spun Sugar on DK, Candyland Castle on worsted.”
Puck holds up his fist, and they quickly do best two out of three. Finn beats Puck’s rock and then his scissors. He hands Puck the Spun Sugar.
“Sorry,” Finn says. “Them’s the rules.”
“I’m totally donating it after tomorrow,” Puck says. “March doesn’t start until 3:30, so what time do you think we need to leave?”
“Probably need to leave around one so we have time to find parking, in case it’s crowded,” Finn says.
Puck makes a face and sits down on the sofa, picking up the size 7 sixteen inch circulars that have been sitting on the coffee table for over a month, and then hands the size 8 sixteen inch circulars to Finn. “What if it’s not crowded?”
“It’ll be crowded. South Bend’s not that big.”
“What if the South Bend Police try to disrupt the gathering?”
“Why would they try to disrupt the gathering?” Finn asks. “Are you planning on smashing anything? Setting something on fire, maybe? What are you planning, Puck?”
“Aside from taking the forty-inch circulars and telling people they were magic loop, when really they’re makeshift garottes?”
“I just meant it’s mostly women, right? They’re not going to pepper spray all the moms and grandmoms and stuff, you don’t think?” Finn asks, sounding very concerned. “Should I pack some extra ponchos in case we need to protect the grandmoms from tear gas?”
“I think it’s milk you want in case of tear gas, remember?” Puck says. He frowns at his cast on and wonders if he’s lost count or not. “I mean, I don’t think there’ll be an issue, but did you see the news this afternoon?”
“Yeah, but that was DC. DC’s not South Bend. We can get a little Happy Meal milk from McDonald’s when we get there, though, just in case, and we’ll just put us between the cops and the grandmoms if we have to,” Finn says.
“I have to recount these stitches,” Puck says, holding up his hand briefly and then counting to make sure he has the requisite one hundred for the original pattern, plus twelve to compensate for using DK. “Okay. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought we’d be having to go to a protest march on January twenty-first either, though, you know?”
Finn sighs. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“We wouldn’t have even moved to Indiana if we’d known, probably, even though we do have very nice yarn habit-supporting jobs.”
“We might have to knit ourselves a barricade.” Finn laughs, then adds, “Or a safety net!”
Puck pauses in the process of establishing the k2p2 rib. “That’s not the worst metaphor ever.”
“It’s an amazing metaphor and you want to marry me because it’s so amazing,” Finn says.
“I’m marrying you anyway, remember?” Puck says. “We should buy the domain name. KnittingASafety-dot-Net.”
“Yeah, you’re marrying me anyway,” Finn says, leaning over Puck’s knitting to kiss him.
“That gives me a great idea,” Puck says a moment later. “We should pretend to knit during the wedding, at the rehearsal.”
“Oh yeah! That would be hilarious.”
“Our moms would want to kill us, especially if we managed to each knit a few stitches while we were kissing.”
“And that’s why I’m marrying you,” Finn says.
“Just to upset your mom?” Puck teases.
“Nah, because you’re evil, just like I like ‘em,” Finn says.
“An evil knitter is your type?”
Puck laughs. “I guess we are a pair of bad hombre knitters, aren’t we?”
“Big bad hombre knitters in our scary pink pussyhats,” Finn says.
“Very scary. What does my favorite bad hombre knitter want for dinner to help fuel our feverish knitting?”
“Something I can eat with as little break from knitting as possible.”
“You’re the one that got the worsted, you’ll be done before I am!”
“And I’ll cut your food for you,” Finn says. “Since I’ll be wearing my hat.”
Puck wrinkles his nose at Finn. “So not pizza. Cha-Cha’s?”
“I’ll order some extra cheese dip.”
“Tip the driver extra, too. Today was probably worse for everyone at Cha-Cha’s than for us.”
“Yeah,” Finn says. “Hey.”
“If we bind off by midnight, we’re celebrating with sex.”
Puck grins. “I’ll be done by ten-fifteen.”