Needling the imagination

“It would take me five minutes…if I don’t break a needle.”
That is probably not the best thing to holler across a parking lot as you part from your friend to get to your respective cars. It was within ear shot of all the people sipping their beverages sitting outside on the patio of the establishment we were just leaving.
I slid into my car and pulled out. Driving away in front of the same unwilling spectators could only fuel the situation. I began to imagine the things they might conjure in their mind that would fit the scenario (as if they cared). But I was doing the imagining and I started thinking about it. What would you take away if you witnessed someone yell that statement over to another person like that?

The slim woman stopped and turned. She was wearing dark-wash fitted jeans with a classic white, long sleeved, button-down shirt. The small black purse matched the three inch heels that she strode in with confidence. Her voice was matter of fact as she called out her statement and then eased into her silver sports car and drove away.
1. Maybe all those drugs she was pushing helped pay for that. It probably didn’t hurt to add to that wardrobe either. Can you believe her to be so bold to be admitting that so freely in public? Guess that’s how she gets word out she has that stuff to sell.
2. Did you see any tattoo’s on her? Maybe that’s what the dark jeans and long sleeves were covering up. She probably doesn’t get much business if she’s in that much of a hurry. And can you imagine her admitting she’s broken needles on someone?
3. I don’t care how much of a friend she might be, I wouldn’t want her piercing my ears.
4. I sure would hate to be the person she was drawing blood from!
5. She doesn’t look like she works for the jail, does she? I mean, you don’t think she gives those lethal injections to death penalty inmates do you?

Okay, so you get the idea. It turns out I did holler that out to my friend. I didn’t think anything about it at the time. We were leaving after having coffee together. The subject of me doing some sewing alterations for another mutual friend had come up. I explained I had adjusted the shoulder straps of a dress and hemmed a pair of jeans for her. I had made the mistake of trying to stitch over pins when I broke two sewing needles in the process. Since I had packed away my sewing notions when I was re-arranging my work space I had to go up to the attic to retrieve more needles.
I was letting my friend know I could help her the same way. She had told me she had a seamstress she took her items to that charged her $8.00 for a hem. My responses was, bring them to me…“It would take me five minutes…if I don’t break a needle.”
So I claim innocence, not guilty. Well, except for being loud and having a wild imagination.

I can only take full credit for those things.
TT