PD - Christmas Ravelry
Title: Christmas Ravelry
Author: MsCongeniality
Genre: Pushing Daisies
Character(s): The Narrator, Emerson Cod, Grandmother Cod
Words: 796
Notes: This was a 'treat' written for firstgold as part of the yuletide 2007 challenge and has been archived there as well. I tried to keep it simple and use the Narrator's voice to tell the whole story. I need to give special thanks to athenejen and nekare for grammar and canon betas as well as purpleallison for knitting advice. This story wouldn't be half as good without their efforts.
Emerson Cod was a complex man. If you asked his partner, The Piemaker, he might be inclined to say that Emerson was a bit rough around the edges and perhaps not as proactive as he might be in solving cases without assistance, but was otherwise reasonably good at his chosen profession. And was, on the whole, not a bad partner to have. If you asked The Piemaker's childhood sweetheart, Charlotte Charles, it is likely that she would say Emerson suppressed his feelings towards others and was too much motivated by money and not enough by his clients' best interests, but he was basically a good man. Whereas if you asked The Piemaker's employee Olive Snook, she would most likely pause and smile before explaining to you that she felt it better to say nothing at all rather than repeat things that weren't very nice. She might also offer you a slice of pie.
While all of these things might be true, each was also, in its own way, wrong. For these insightful observations told only a part of the story, and Emerson Cod was more than the sum of his many parts. There were, it seemed, facets to Emerson Cod about which The Piemaker and his friends had no earthly knowledge.
*~*~*
The facts were these: Young Emerson Cod (aged ten years, two months, three weeks, five days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes) was what his teacher called, in the many telephone calls she made to his home, 'directionless.' However, his grandmother, who had raised him from a very young age, more commonly used the term ‘young hooligan.' So when she was called away from her ladies' knitting circle to the school on the last day before Christmas break because Emerson had so incensed the principal by 'acting out'-badly enough that three children (and a parent who had, most unfortunately, been delivering holiday cookies) were being treated for cuts and contusions by the local ambulance corps-that the principal was sending him home well before the end of the day, accompanied by a strongly worded letter that implied Emerson might, perhaps, not be welcomed back at the start of the next term, his grandmother decided that the time had come for drastic action.
Traditional punishments had not, to date, succeeded in teaching Young Emerson any lesson in particular, let alone one of discipline. So, she reasoned, it only made sense to set him a task that required patience and some skill to master. Being keen to keep her grandson under her watchful eye, and being equally keen not to miss any more of the local gossip exchanged among the ladies of her knitting circle, she lit upon what she felt to be the perfect answer to both dilemmas. Emerson would not, as was usually the case, be free to hang out on the streets of his neighborhood getting into trouble, as hooligans his age were wont to do. Instead, he would join her in the ladies' knitting circle, and, moreover, he would knit. Emerson would stay by her side and knit her a scarf: one inch for each phone call or letter she had received from the school so far that year, which should keep her quite warm indeed.
For his part, Young Emerson reacted poorly to this punishment. His natural inclination was to sit and sulk. He kept that up quite admirably until his grandmother pointed out that the longer he refused to work on his scarf, the longer it would be until his liberty was restored. And so, Emerson took up his needles and submitted to attempts to teach him a basic garter stitch.
Young Emerson's work was, at first, angry and careless, filled with the holes characteristic of dropped and uneven stitching. He grew angrier still when his grandmother unraveled it in front of him, stating that any task worth doing was worth doing with thought and care. In time, though, he calmed down and began truly working at his stitches, taking pride in the rhythmic ‘tck, tcking' of his needles as he produced row upon row of beautiful even stitching.
*~*~*
So it came to pass that Christmas that year was a happy one. For Young Emerson's grandmother quite liked the scarf he presented her that day, and Emerson himself scowled, but was secretly happy to receive a box containing his own pair of knitting needles and several skeins of yarn. And if, years later, The Piemaker, his childhood sweetheart, and his employee should all receive anonymous packages the day before Christmas, each box containing a beautifully knitted set of hat, scarf and gloves that fit the recipient perfectly, and not know who to thank, then perhaps they might need to look more closely at what they think they know about their friends.
Author: MsCongeniality
Genre: Pushing Daisies
Character(s): The Narrator, Emerson Cod, Grandmother Cod
Words: 796
Notes: This was a 'treat' written for firstgold as part of the yuletide 2007 challenge and has been archived there as well. I tried to keep it simple and use the Narrator's voice to tell the whole story. I need to give special thanks to athenejen and nekare for grammar and canon betas as well as purpleallison for knitting advice. This story wouldn't be half as good without their efforts.
Emerson Cod was a complex man. If you asked his partner, The Piemaker, he might be inclined to say that Emerson was a bit rough around the edges and perhaps not as proactive as he might be in solving cases without assistance, but was otherwise reasonably good at his chosen profession. And was, on the whole, not a bad partner to have. If you asked The Piemaker's childhood sweetheart, Charlotte Charles, it is likely that she would say Emerson suppressed his feelings towards others and was too much motivated by money and not enough by his clients' best interests, but he was basically a good man. Whereas if you asked The Piemaker's employee Olive Snook, she would most likely pause and smile before explaining to you that she felt it better to say nothing at all rather than repeat things that weren't very nice. She might also offer you a slice of pie.
While all of these things might be true, each was also, in its own way, wrong. For these insightful observations told only a part of the story, and Emerson Cod was more than the sum of his many parts. There were, it seemed, facets to Emerson Cod about which The Piemaker and his friends had no earthly knowledge.
*~*~*
The facts were these: Young Emerson Cod (aged ten years, two months, three weeks, five days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes) was what his teacher called, in the many telephone calls she made to his home, 'directionless.' However, his grandmother, who had raised him from a very young age, more commonly used the term ‘young hooligan.' So when she was called away from her ladies' knitting circle to the school on the last day before Christmas break because Emerson had so incensed the principal by 'acting out'-badly enough that three children (and a parent who had, most unfortunately, been delivering holiday cookies) were being treated for cuts and contusions by the local ambulance corps-that the principal was sending him home well before the end of the day, accompanied by a strongly worded letter that implied Emerson might, perhaps, not be welcomed back at the start of the next term, his grandmother decided that the time had come for drastic action.
Traditional punishments had not, to date, succeeded in teaching Young Emerson any lesson in particular, let alone one of discipline. So, she reasoned, it only made sense to set him a task that required patience and some skill to master. Being keen to keep her grandson under her watchful eye, and being equally keen not to miss any more of the local gossip exchanged among the ladies of her knitting circle, she lit upon what she felt to be the perfect answer to both dilemmas. Emerson would not, as was usually the case, be free to hang out on the streets of his neighborhood getting into trouble, as hooligans his age were wont to do. Instead, he would join her in the ladies' knitting circle, and, moreover, he would knit. Emerson would stay by her side and knit her a scarf: one inch for each phone call or letter she had received from the school so far that year, which should keep her quite warm indeed.
For his part, Young Emerson reacted poorly to this punishment. His natural inclination was to sit and sulk. He kept that up quite admirably until his grandmother pointed out that the longer he refused to work on his scarf, the longer it would be until his liberty was restored. And so, Emerson took up his needles and submitted to attempts to teach him a basic garter stitch.
Young Emerson's work was, at first, angry and careless, filled with the holes characteristic of dropped and uneven stitching. He grew angrier still when his grandmother unraveled it in front of him, stating that any task worth doing was worth doing with thought and care. In time, though, he calmed down and began truly working at his stitches, taking pride in the rhythmic ‘tck, tcking' of his needles as he produced row upon row of beautiful even stitching.
*~*~*
So it came to pass that Christmas that year was a happy one. For Young Emerson's grandmother quite liked the scarf he presented her that day, and Emerson himself scowled, but was secretly happy to receive a box containing his own pair of knitting needles and several skeins of yarn. And if, years later, The Piemaker, his childhood sweetheart, and his employee should all receive anonymous packages the day before Christmas, each box containing a beautifully knitted set of hat, scarf and gloves that fit the recipient perfectly, and not know who to thank, then perhaps they might need to look more closely at what they think they know about their friends.