Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The gnome wouldn't take gno for an answer.

There was a little house on a little street in a little suburb.

The little house had a little yard with a little garden and a little lawn gnome. The little gnome stood to the right of the path next to a bird bath. He stood there for three years with a lawn flamingo, a metal dragonfly and a key-hiding rock.

Then one day, one life changing day an old four-dour Ford something drove by with speakers blaring. The bass shook the leaves in the little yard in front of the little house. The highs made little animals flee from the little garden. The music shook the little lawn gnome to the very core.

With every pulsing beat, the gnome wiggled and vibrated and scooted around. What a rush! The gnome could only hope that something similar would happen again.

He looked around at his yard buddies. They weren't so amuzed by the sudden burst of sound in their garden. The flamingo had fallen over; the rock had opened up to reveal its key, and the dragon fly rung with the sound of a tuning fork.

But the gnome, oh the gnome was filled with the urge to dance.

"You can't dance," the flamingo said. "You're a lawn gnome."

"Yeah," chimed in the rock. "Your purpose in life is to be stolen by teenagers."

"And photographed in comprimising places," the dragonfly dinged.

The gnome could only laugh at his cohorts. Their words hung in the air like treble clefs so he twirled and swayed to them. He do-si-doed to the sounds of jogger's MP3 players. He tapped his toes to TV jingles that escaped from windows.

For weeks, the gnome danced to the sounds of his little street. And one day he heard a familiar sound.

The car! With the music!

The gnome felt as if he were being lifted into the air. He flew over the yard. He ... wasn't where he was supposed to be. Something wasn't right.

The gnome was tossed into a trunk. He wasn't dancing at all! He was being kidnapped!

He traveled around the greater part of the large city near his little suburb. And now he resides in a little, music-filled office on a little shelf next to a little lamp.

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