Busted by the Clapotis Police

I'm still shaking. This is one of those things you read about on other peoples' blogs; you never expect it's going to happen to you.

Last night [actually this morning around 2 a.m.] I was sleeping soundly, Todd was sleeping on the chair, Paul in bed with me. They both jumped up at the same time, they heard the footsteps before I did. Paul started growling and doing the 'agitated dog' thing, and they both barked and snarled when the sharp knock on the door echoed through my tiny apartment.

I opened the door and it was a well-dressed but tough looking guy in a suit and tie. He flashed some kind of badge but I couldn't see it very well; it was dark and I was a little bleary-eyed. "I'm the Deputy Inspector for the Knitters Blog Control and Monitoring District for this area."

"The what?" I'm not sure whether I said it or thought it.

"We understand you have been running a knit blog out of this address, is that correct?"

I paused. "Well, actually, the blog has a variety of content. Most recently, I blogged about my dog."

"But you do include knitting on the blog?"

"Yes"

"Our jurisdiction extends to any blog that contains knitting content. May I see your Clapotis?"

I'd heard about this sort of thing but didn't think it actually happened. It felt like a scene out of the movie 'Brazil.' "What exactly is the problem?" I asked.

"All knit bloggers are required to show proof of Clapotis. You know, its part of the new Blog Consumers' Bill of Rights of the Public Safety code. If someone's reading what you purport to be a knit blog, they have a right to know that you've actually made a Clapotis, and that you're not just some scam artist making up fake blog entries or something."

"But I could show you a Clapotis that might have been made by anyone"

"No you couldn't, sir." He said.

"But how does it have anything to do with Public Safety or whether or not I..."

He cut me off. "Sir, do you have a Clapotis for me, or am I going to have to write this up?"

My mind raced. What could I do? I've been making fun of people for knitting that thing [and its ridiculous name] for months now. Maybe I could pass off that burgundy and grey seed stitch scarf as a Clapotis. No, I gave that one to Phideaux. Damn. What about that black and grey scarf that Allison knit for me? That might work. It was kind of dark, maybe he wouldn't notice, or would decide to be lenient. "Just a minute, I'll get it" I said.

Finally, I found it in my closet. "Here it is." I draped it around my neck and kept my distance, trying to work the shadows to my advantage.

"Sir, I need to inspect the stitching."

I took it off and handed it to him. I held my breath. "This is just a regular scarf," he said.

"Look," I said, panicing, "I just made this really great sweater vest. Look how perfect the seams are. See how even the V came out on the neck? Doesn't that prove my skill?"

"Sorry," the inspector said, " I'm going to have to write this up. You have 30 days to present proof of Clapotis, or it looks like you'll face fines and jail time." Then he got out his pad and wrote me this ticket. I stood there, numb. He handed me the ticket. "Have a nice night." He said as he left.

.......................................................................

So now I'm really screwed. I have to knit that stupid Clapotis that I've been making fun of all over blogland. At least Mom's birthday is coming up and I can palm off the finished Clap on her.

Oh well. Gives me a good excuse to check out that new yarn shop in Pasadena this weekend.