Let’s face it: Gnomes are little punks. All they’re good for is posing for mass-produced garden art and botching up people’s estates. I see your incredulous looks… Either you don’t believe in Gnomes or you are dirty, dirty communists who think it is okay for anyone to abuse private property!
An army of Garden Gnomes
“Hold on their, Eric… Where’s the fire?” you most condescendingly ask, “Couldn’t it be that we just think that you’re a little batty?”
I’ve considered that, dear reader, but I find it unlikely.
“I’d consider it again.”
I will not be silent even in the face of your pro-Gnome propaganda. No, dear reader, I must be heard! Gnomes are not just the mythical underground dwellers of folklore, nor are they a free desktop operating system; Gnomes are beastly little saboteurs who ruin send your electronic devices on the fritz, unplug your alarm clocks, hide your homework, pee on your books, steal your children, and eat your dogs. There is no end to their fiendish hostility toward mankind. You don’t want to mess with these guys. They totally suck.
Would you trust this Gnome?
“Why exactly is your anti-Gnome rhetoric so vocal today?” you deign to ask.
Despite your patronizing attitude, I am glad you asked. It all starts several weeks ago when… (Hazy flashback effects).
It was the first week of February, Punxsutawney Phil had recently seen his shadow, and I returned from my tour of the Great North West. As I waited in the airport to receive a ride home from parents, I caught the avatar of femininity making funny eyes at me. Not being accustomed to such forward advances, I fool-heartedly (albeit debonairly) strolled over this seductive lady in the corner.
“Come here often?” Granted, I am not very good at this sort of thing.
She laughed. “No, it has been a while since I flew last.”
At that moment we knew that we were in love; however, we had to keep our passion secret because apparently her father and mine were engaged in a terrible blood war that had started back on the streets of Sunnyvale when they were boys. They forever forbid their children from wedding one another.
Over this last month we’ve had several secret rendezvous, and were making plans to flee the country together in one final, desperate romantic act to rid ourselves of our parents’ unfeeling control. Alas, it was not meant to be.
Last night she sped over Highway 17 from San Jose to pick me up so we could forever be free with one another; however, this was not in the Gnomes’ plans. A group of listless Gnomes in search of mischief cut my love’s breaks. She never made it over the hill. I will never love again. And no Gnome will be left alive by the end of 2008.
I consider this my prime directive!
Does this look like the face of a man who will take Gnomish treachery lying down?
1 comments:
Ah, my friend. You apparently didn't grow up with the amazing Dutch book "Gnomes" (http://www.amazon.com/Gnomes-Wil-Huygen/dp/0810909650) or you would know that they are peaceful, hobbit-like creatures who help woodland animals in distress. Perhaps your unfortunate circumstances were caused by trolls...did you notice any tails?
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