Suspended by the needle clamp, Flash felt a quiver run down his shaft. Finally, after months of being cooped up in that plastic box his time to shine had arrived.
He recalled with slight irritation the teamwork lecture Rusty had given him the night before. “You must realize you are only ONE of the necessary parts of the entire machine,” the older needle had cautioned.
“Some of those guys have been a part of the machine since it was new. For example, you’ll be working closely with the bobbin case. Listen to his pointers, and I’m sure you’ll be sewing in no time. You’re a sharp kid, but don’t let that go to your head.”
“Thanks, Rusty,” Flash had quipped, “But remember; only pins have heads.” Rusty had sighed and retired to his pin cushion leaving Flash to dream of the day that he would make his debut into the sewing world.
And now that day had arrived. The lady of the house would soon commence the construction of her chosen project, and he, Flash, would become a stunning success --- a celebrity in the world of needles and sewing machines.
The daydream ended as Flash was jerked into a new position. Why, the lady had just flipped on the power switch!
Flash could see her agile fingers slipping a blue thread through the tension, the thread guide, and then realized that the end of the thread was aimed for his eye. His instinct told him to blink, but better judgment came to his rescue. He would have to put up with the necessary ordeal of being threaded.
Suddenly he was being lowered into a black hole beneath him where someone snatched his thread and gave it a tug. Flash was infuriated. “Stop! Who are you and what are you doing?”
Before his eyes could adjust to the darkness, Flash found himself back in the daylight. A chuckle drifted from the hole.
“So, you’re new. Son, I’m the bobbin and I just hooked my thread around yours. Now we’re set to sew. Just let me catch your thread every time you come down, and you can pull the stitch tight on your way up. Got it?”
Flash gripped his thread at this threat to his independence, “So you’re the bobbin I’ve heard about? Well, just listen, mister. From now on I’ll do the sewing for this outfit, and you can just take a break.”
At the sound of his own voice, Flash felt his confidence returning. Yes, who needed a bobbin? Rusty and his lectures could just get lost in a haystack.
Flash’s eye focused on the folds of blue headed his direction and he hardly heard the response from the hole. “I assure you I won’t take a break. But if you keep insisting on your way, it won’t be pretty.”
The moment had come! As electricity flowed into the machine, Flash plunged through the cloth and once again found himself in the presence of Mr. Bobbin.
How dare this impudent fellow capture his thread! He would outmaneuver the nimble bobbin at any cost!
Above the cloth, Flash glanced back at his stitches with satisfaction. He was just preparing for his next dive into the sea of blue when it happened. Rather, nothing happened.
Flash found himself helplessly jammed in position. He could only watch in despair as the agile fingers pulled the cloth from beneath him and been slicing through his stitches with a ripper.
What was happening? He hated to resort to asking him, but . . . . “Mr. Bobbin, what’s going on?”
“It’s just a big tangle down here. I’d rather get some real sewing done if you don’t mind.”
“You mean I’m not really sewing?” Flash quavered in disbelief.
“Well son, it takes both of us plus the whole machine to form real stitches. Do you want to be a part of the team and work with us? We need you, but you have to be willing to cooperate.”
The fingers were placing the material beneath him again as Flash let the bobbin’s words sink in. They needed him, but could he accept that he needed them as well?
“I’ll give it a try,” he called down. As he clenched the first stitch, Flash sensed a new desire to belong. He could work as a part of the team!
Reveling in his harmony with the rest of the machine, Flash rose and fell, a row of perfect stitches stretching in his wake.
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