5.20.2010

A Story. About Scissors.

Once upon a time there lived a family.  There was a father, a mother, and three sons.  Though everyone in the family loved each other very much, they had an uncontrollable desire to irritate the ever-lovin' fire out of one another.

On one particular rainy day, the mother of the family was working on a very last minute project.  For the project, she needed her good sewing scissors.  The scissors being the ones that are placed in the mother's equivalent to Ft. Knox to keep them safe.  For the mother knows that if she were to leave her good sewing scissors within reach of her family, then they would inevitably be used for everything from opening packets of beef jerky to giving the family cat a haircut.  And this would make the mother want to scream at the top of her lungs and make unrecognizable noises.

So as the mother walked to Ft. Knox to retrieve her safely kept sewing shears, a funny feeling began to gurgle in her stomach.

What's this?  Surely the scissors are safe and sound.

The mother proceeds with extreme caution.  Surely her feelings are wrong.  Her beloved scissors with their pristine blades and sharp tips are most certainly going to be waiting for her. 

But, alas, as the mother opens up the cabinet and takes out the drawer which holds the majestic pair of cutivity, her heart sinks.  Then begins to pound wildly.  Where, oh, where, are the scissors?  No one knew of the sacred hiding spot but her.  Who could have done this?  Surely the scissors of such valued snippery were involved in some kind of cutlery rapture.  Anything but what she knew was horrifyingly a more likely possibility.

The mother turned slowly from the cabinet and drew in a deep breath.  With the breath, horns sprouted and fangs grew.  The healthy hue of her skin turned to a putrid shade of green, and steam became to vomit from both her ears.

The three sons who were presumably involved so innocently in a round of video games must have heard the stampede of terror that was heading straight for them.  Their faces turned to see their gargoyle of a mother figure forming words with her mouth, but because of her level of angst, no sound was made.  All three sons instantly threw up their hands in an "I surrender" position and then immediately ducked and covered. 

The mother began to regain composure as she questioned her offspring about the missing jewels of the clipper crown.  And though she hoped for a straight answer as to who had done what with the one thing that had, up until this time, remained sacred in her overrun-with-testosterone home, all she was met with were shoulders shoved up into earlobes and dazed over gazes.

The mother walked away to count to 3253 when she stumbled across something.  Something that made sheer panic squirm through every inch of vein. 

For there, on the table, were the scissors.  Those blessed slicers of wonder.  Covered.  In a hearty coat of tacky glue.

And 3 innocent faces claiming absolutely no idea of how such a blasphemous ordeal could have happened.

Oy.

Once upon a time there lived a family.

The living happily ever after part has yet to be determined.

15 comments:

Gretchen said...

I have a spare bedroom, and a pair of sewing shears you can borrow.

Jennifer said...

So,Gretchen...

Is your spare bedroom for those 3 ADORABLE rascals or the momma with the steam vomiting from her ears!!!

Kellie said...

Girl, I hear you. I have had some of my biggest hussy fits over my sewing sheers. I especially used my "big girl" words after my kids wewre caught using them to cut duct tape and sandpaper.

I'd like to tell you that hussy fits work. But the kids remain undeterred.

I think we should all go to Gretchen's!

Amy Fulmer said...

Cutlery rapture....

Missing jewels of the clipper crown...

I got my smiles on for you, girly!!!

BTW...someone has their own scissor story to tell that involves blonde, a swoop, and a very cute bob. It is a story that needs to be told in person. Over ice cream or dance music.

Tiffani said...

wow. are you still counting 'cause that's a BIG number! whoosh.

when you are done counting, call me and we'll discuss how children seem to have some sort of sixth sense for all things that belong to Mom and yet have "no clue" about there whereabouts...

We need to get our families together again, set the boys loose and we'll cut w/ purty scissors til our heart's content!

Kay @ Off the Beaten Path said...

Ah yes, my silver blades are also sacred and I have made the huge mistake of thinking my family, now composed of two teens and a husband who all ought to know better, could handle them being stored in an open place. Not so. I found them on the kitchen table recently too. They weren't, thank you Jesus, coated in sticky goo, but they certainly weren't surrounded by fabric scraps either. I don't really know what they were used for, but it wasn't made of cotton or polyester I'm sure. Thus, with your horrid story ringing in my ears, I am heading straight off to find a new hiding place for my shears of splendor!

You have my deepest condolences...

whimzie said...

I don't sew so I've never really understood the sacredness of sewing scissors. Until I lived with a home ec major for three years. And she found me cutting coupons with her sewing scissors. She also vomited steam. It was scary. And I never touched her scissors again so we lived happily ever after. The end.

Elizabeth said...

I say you punish them all until someone confesses!

theelizabethhighsmith said...

cut it out that is snipply awful! my deepest sympathy to the family!

Jim said...

OH, QUEEN OF THE JEWELS OF THE CLIPPER CROWN!

When I read of your experience at the mercy of such cutlery piracy, my own experiences with such blatant and cutting thievery, yea, abuse of the the clipper crown itself, I, too, began to recall my own transformations of green, of ears pouring forth with lava born steam! I, too, vowed that such gleaming bejewelled sharpness would ever be protected from such degrading spoil - and sought to secret them away in a velvet lined box with only one key, that which hung around my neck to keep it ever safe and pristine for its special work of scissored bliss! I, too, however, was besieged by those who claimed kinship to me, who had vowed to never touch the "crown" on pain of the extremest order.

And only now can I with calm response and inner prophecy fulfilled, reveal the names of those who discovered my secret treasure of sissored bliss. Only now can I finally say, "what goes around comes around" with a smile that sees such come full circle.

Who, you may ask? They are sisters who have now seen the "gene" pool revealed in the color green!

I am at rest!
Jim-Dad

Bridget said...

Ugh! Michael and Kyle are always moving my scissors and not putting them back...drives me nuts!!

Bridget said...

there's something for you over at my blog :D

Nina Diane said...

I just recently found my good sewing scissors in the GARAGE!! And I said to Johnny.....WHERE did you get those. his reply....I don't know,I thought they were mine! HA!!

New Every Morning said...

We have sacred scissors {that have been disgraced} at our house too. Fire and brimstone rain down when they are removed from the queen's chambers.

Jen said...

My boys must have sent your boys a memo. They took my haircutting scissors (how they found them is 100% beyond my comprehension)and chose to make cut-off shorts of all of their blue jeans. Yes, the heavy denim kind. With hair cutting scissors. The kind I paid something like $40 for. You know, so I could do somewhat of a good job on their heads of bushy hair.
And today they are wondering why I don't want to take them to the pool.
Sigh. It's gonna be a long summer.