Like a heroin-pushing kitten with a backpack full of dirty needles.

These little guys are named Korknisse, and I first learned of them here on Knitting to Stay Sane.  I happened to be drinking wine at the time, and before the bottle was empty the cork had a new purpose in life.

I knew immediately that it would not do to make only one or two of these.  I needed a tiny, cozy army.  I needed my entire box of leftover wool to become tiny hats and sweaters.

And while I admit that I am powerless in the face of Korknisse and that they have taken over my thoughts and my needles, I was determined that they would not take over my house.  I decided to carry one or two with me in my pockets whenever I was out about town and subtly deploy them to charm the unsuspecting populace.

Before I had managed to recruit the necessary raw materials, I discovered that the adorable invasion had made its way onto PDXKnitterati’s needles as well.

They cannot be stopped.

Since I can’t drink enough wine to supply my own ambitions, I sent my parents an email asking them to start saving their corks for me too.  Mom replied, saying that they’d been saving corks for some time for a neighbor but would be happy to give the stash to me instead, since the neighbor might have enough by now.

They were coming up the next day for dinner.  They arrived, and I showed them the first little guy I had made and explained that I wanted to make a zillion of them and hide them all over town to be discovered unexpectedly.

I went to get my coat as we were leaving for dinner, and there was a cork in the pocket.  I put it in a drawer to be dressed.  After dinner we came back to the house for wine and conversation.  On the way home, I discovered a colony of corks in my knitting bag.  I put them into the drawer when we got home, and then there was a cork floating in Mom’s wine glass.  And so it goes.  Over the course of the evening and the following day, I discovered additional corks in the pocket of my robe, in the straps of my seat bag, in the silverware drawer, in the refrigerator, wedged into Quick’s saddle, inside my leftovers container from dinner, in my helmet, on the tea tray, in my shoes, in a bag hanging from a lamp, and in the dog’s mouth.  I’m not sure I’ve found them all yet.  Someone clearly approves of the plan.

My first field soldier took up his post yesterday.

And now I have a drawer full of naked corks awaiting their hats, sweaters, and impending world domination.