JoJo wore knitted socks, and scarves and sweaters and hats. She made them standing up, sitting down, in the subway and in front of the television. Knitting was her passion and her life. When she had first taken up the craft, JoJo had given away her pieces, but they were not received with the gratitude they commanded so she stopped sharing them and soon her tiny apartment filled with her creations. She expanded her horizons to include progressively more complex patterns and became adept at modifying them to suit her fancy. In her mind’s eye, JoJo could spot any flaw as she scanned the instructions and computed the rows. She would rearrange colours and add a bit of texture here and there to create her own versions.
She embraced the Internet, and started contributing her own patterns, establishing a following of like-minded knitters. They competed for complexity and beauty. Those were exciting times in the knitting community. She met Darlene online, and their friendship bloomed. They shared their most cherished patterns and memories of successes and failures. Darlene was her one true friend until that fateful day. At first, JoJo thought she was mistaken, but when confronted Darlene admitted to the deed. She had been in a slump, unable to create anything new, and had resorted to reusing one of JoJo’s early patterns, altering instructions slightly and adding a few twists to make it hers. She was unapologetic which made matters worse.
JoJo was unravelled. She had thought they were so tightly knit that they could withstand anything. She tried to put the incident behind her, so precious was their friendship to her, but the hurt kept surfacing, like a mistake that glares at you in the first row, so much so that you have to start over. JoJo’s trust had been breached. She decided to test the waters again, and excitedly shared with Darlene a new pattern she had created for Halloween. It was intricate and challenging, a whimsical cat hat made with angora wool, complete with pointy ears and a long tail topped with a pompom. She could feel Darlene’s lust at the design. Sure enough, it pushed her over the edge again. Darlene changed a few stitches, added paws that trailed on the cheeks and a ball of yarn that attached under the chin. War was declared. For every design came a counter-design, a pathetic effort at creativity. Darlene was standing on JoJo’s shoulder, letter JoJo do all the heavy lifting and sharing the glory. JoJo’s patterns reeked of frustration; Darlene’s stank of complacency. The result was an eccentric mix that made their followers go wild.
A newcomer to the knitting community had launched a campaign to cloth elephants that were suffering from the cold in India. Soon, all eyes were set on India. JoJo saw the elephants as giant billboards for her promotion. She poured over pictures of lavishly dressed elephants in the maharaja’s times and outdid them in colourful yarns. Hers were the prettiest, with an eye for using comfy wool against the cold. The art was ephemeral, as elephants scratched themselves against trees, leaving soft fluff behind. The birds loved the wool and used the long strands to build comfy nests for their brood. All over India, tattered elephant sweaters littered the landscapes and for years after the cold spell, knitted flowers were seen adorning nests, with JoJo’s signature cross-stitches. Those were seen as lucky omens. JoJo eggs became all the rage, said to bring riches to the ones who ate them. Unfortunately, she was never able to put her hands on one and had to settle with glory in faraway lands.