The GnOme StOry

“ere am I.  Just sittin’ et me typwrita, writin’ a story.  I’m callin’ it…

 

The GnOme StOry

 

I’m just sittin’ ‘ere, mindin’ me own business.  Not causin’ any trouble, inflictin’ unnecessary pain, or drinkin’ any Coke.  In fact I’m quite comfortable in the lazy boy, the blanket pulled up to me chin.  As I doze off, somethin’ in the back of me noggin tells me not to go to sleep.  Images of ducks flash before me eyes and I bolt up in a cold sweat.  I looks left, and the right, scannin’ the room.  All clear.  Wait.  Oh, right…all clear.  I lay me ‘ead back.

“Allo John.”

Me eyes pop open.  “That’s Jon.”

“For pronunciation’s sake it’s John.  Shut up.”

I bend me eyes to the left.  It’s standin’ there.  All four inches of it.  The red cap, the grey beard, the little fur boot-ies.  It’s a damn Nome.

“You’re a damn Nome.”

“That’s Gnome, piss ‘ead.”

“Weeeeell, for pro-nun-see-ay-shun’s sake, it’s Nome.”  I think I pushed it too far, ‘e’s glarin’ et me.

“Weeeeell, JoHn.  Why don’t we see what happens when we pull off your ears.  Mmmm?  Sound fun, JoHn?”  He jumps up onto me ‘ead, doin’ some sort of dance, and starts crawlin’ toward me ear.

“Wait!  I thought umm…that…you guys…um…was supposed to be nice…maybee.”  I can’t see ‘im, and I don’t like it much.

“Hee he-he-he-he-heeeeee!”

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