The Ran-Out-Of-Thread lament

"Well!" said the dress makers dummy with feeling. "I must say, it's very poor form for the overlocking thread to have just run out like that! And no more to be found in the thread drawer, either."

"Tell me about it!" groaned the half finished dress. "I was hoping that she might wear me over the weekend if the weather held out, but it looks like I'm plum outta luck until she gets more thread. Such dastard misfortune!"

"Cheer up chappies!" chirped a certain pink and black striped sweater from the wardrobe. "It's an ill wind that doesn't blow somebody some good, and methinks that the good will come to yours truly. I'll bet my stripes over your spots that she wears me on the weekend. Rain is forecast, yeah?"

The spotted dress began to wail into her unoverlocked raw edges as the dummy made comforting sounds before glaring at the sweater and muttering darkly about how winter clothes should learn to keep their opinions to themselves. "Particularly," she said out loud to the room in general, "if sweaters who are getting too cocky for their own good should find themselves placed on me. One snag on my rusty edges, and they'll be unravelling quicker than you can say dropped stitches!"

Not another peep was to be heard from the wardrobe after that declaration. The dress makers dummy smiled to herself. At times, being old certainly had its advantages.