It's just not fair.

The boss ma'am is learning to knit.

All of her family and friends will be allowed to say "No, thanks" when she offers them her handiwork.  Not me.  I have to wear anything she puts on me.  All you have to do is look at my photos to see I am telling the truth.

So far she has about eight inches of what I am sure is destined to be the world's ugliest scarf or maybe tube sock.  And I am just as sure I will have to wear it.  What is a Whigle to do?

Bad Cuz says this is out of his jurisdiction.  Lily livered little turncoat that he is, he probably figures he will be wearing a hand knit skull cap if he is implicated.  I guess I don't blame him for staying out of it.

I'm not alone, though.  My good friend Angus the Warrior understands my problem.  So much so that his Muse visited him with a poem in my honor:

Knit one, purl two
What’s a Whigle supposed to do?
When the boss ma’am decides to knit
Frightening sweaters that do not fit

Where to hide?
Where to run?
She’ll come looking
When the scarf is done

For poor Lyle to sport
Her latest fluffy creation
Nasty knitted what-not
In a scary colour combination

There’s no time to waste
Don’t tarry or delay
Call the fashion police
To take those needles away!