On my way to school this morning, I was late. Mom leaves for work before I wake up and I forgot to turn on my alarm clock. I felt like I forgot something important. When I bent over to tie my shoe outside, I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. It was a tiny little red speck. Then, as it got closer I realized something. It was a garden gnome.
Now I’m not the most intelligent of people in the world. I got held back in Kindergarten for “behavioral issues,” but I know for a fact, that garden gnomes do not move. They also do not try to hide behind bushes in a feeble attempt at camouflage. In all my twelve years of life I have never wanted to suddenly take a shit out of pure fear.
I decide to keep on walking.
No such thing as living garden ornaments. As I keep on walking to school I notice that the gnome has begun to follow me. I can hear the clink of his little shoes. He suddenly stops when I stop, and sometimes makes very bad attempts at hiding. I begin to speed up, and his tiny little gnome legs cannot keep up with me.
Suddenly, I break into a sweat. Why is he following me? “Please sir, please slow down. I can barely keep up with you!” Oh great, it talks too. I keep staring, straight ahead, telling myself this isn’t happening.
Gunshot! Crash! Slowly, I turn around. The little garden gnome has…. Exploded? Shot? Garden gnomes can’t live but guns are real. Who cares about school, I’m getting the fuck out of here. I run home, turn off all the lights and hide under my bed. I try to rationalize that the garden gnome didn’t feel any pain from the bullet, but it doesn’t seem to work.
At some point I decide to get out from under my bed and make myself some nachos. I turn on the television and realize that I need this day off. Anyone would after seeing defenseless tacky pieces of talking lawn furniture get whacked.