Mittens
this is a snapshot-and sadly reflects my own shortcomings
They were ordered not to bother him. The stream of curses emanating from behind the closed door was shocking. But, when the door opened-revealing an extremely fed-up and flustered colonel-the men in the barracks froze in shock.
Hogan was holding onto his left hand; drops of blood slowly dripped onto the floor. This caused a now-woozy LeBeau to grab hold of the closest chair.
"Help," Hogan squeaked. The men sprang into action.
"Do I need to get Wilson?" asked Olsen.
Hogan shook his head and muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile, Carter had the presence of mind to grab the first aid kit, and he and Kinch rushed over to their C.O. KInch noticed small puncture wounds all over Hogan's hand. Clearly, the colonel had suffered some kind of horrific accident.
Kinch frowned. "What happened?"
Finally, after several minutes and lots of bandages, Hogan spoke. "If this gets out, I'll court-martial every single one of you."
"Do tell," Newkirk commented. He lit a cigarette and leaned against a bunk.
Hogan sighed. "I wanted to do something nice for everyone here; for Christmas. So, I decided to make something homemade." He grimaced. "Go see for yourself."
All 14 men moved in unison over to Hogan's office. What they found was not a pretty sight. Yarn was scattered everywhere. Various kinds of knitting needles were flung on the bunkbed. Newkirk sidled over to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper, revealing a simple pattern for mittens.
"Guv'nor. You're the best at what you do. Really. And we all appreciate the sentiment. Right, chaps?" Mumbles and nods showed agreement. "I'll fix this all up. If I get some help, I can detangle the yarn and work on the pattern."
"We will all help, Newkirk. And Colonel, Just you being here? Well, that's the best gift anyone of us could want." Carter offered Hogan a smile.
"Thanks," Hogan replied, a sheepish look on his face. "That's the last time I'll ever try anything like this again. I promise. I really don't know what came over me; I've always been-craft impaired."
a/n: Yes, despite what my crafty daughter, Rachel, says, I've always been craft-impaired. The thought of even making one of those potholders on a loom would send me into a panic! I know we have many talented readers/authors on here who make wonderful, beautiful things. I have no idea how to make mittens, but I know it involves complicated needles, etc and so forth. Rachel looked at this chapter and she approved the message!
