One reader’s real-life tale of gnomic horror

Writing a popular gnome blog is not all peaches and cream. While I’d like to be able to help all the people who come to me for help, the cold truth is that it’s too late for some of them.

Take Hildegard O’Leary, for instance. Now I don’t even know Hildegard — she’s actually one of my daughter’s former co-workers — but she contacted me this morning by instant message, frantic (yet I also detected a hint of smugness) about what she found in her kitchen. She also sent a picture:

Hildegard O'Leary (not her real name) came into the kitchen at 5:59 a.m., hoping to make some porridge, but found something worse than roaches on her kitchen countertop.
Hildegard O’Leary (not her real name) came into the kitchen at 5:59 a.m., hoping to make some breakfast porridge. She found something far worse than cockroaches on her kitchen countertop.

ALERT***

Be on the lookout for surprise gnome attacks. I came down to my kitchen this morning at 5:59 am to make breakfast. The time frame is important, as it is my belief that if I came down at my regular time of 6 am I would have remained blissfully unaware of this imminent attack. I am happy to say that I was able to apprehend the suspects, and hold them for questioning, against my ‘Lucky Charms’ & ‘Pot O’Gold’ flour containers. They have so far refused to give their names, however, you can see by their attire, that clearly these gnomes are from one of those rogue Scottish gnome clans, and, as you can see by their expressions they were also surprised by my early arrival. When I got to the kitchen they were already huddled, and discussing how they were going to proceed with their heinous plan of taking over the entire household. I’m pretty sure that I heard something about “revenge for my banishing their leader to my husband’s place of employment”. I was able to retrieve their written plan which included radicalizing our 3 cats, and then proceeding to decorate the house in ghastly shades of red, blue and green!! As you can see, this is serious, and who knows what the situation would have been had I not found them in time. I felt it my duty as a follower of Roamin Gnomials to bring about awareness . It may be too late for us, but, SAVE YOURSELVES!!!— Hildegard O’Leary

I shouldn’t need to tell you, dear reader, that “Hildegard O’Leary” isn’t this woman’s real name. I mean, who would name their child Hildegard O’Leary, for chrissakes? No, it’s an assumed name she gave herself because she’s desperate to avoid contact with gnomes.

But just like a child who’s been told by her mother not to go near the candle flame, Hildegard’s curiosity got the better of her, and she stuck her finger right in it! As soon as she got word through Facebook that I was writing a blog about gnomes, she was all over it, saying straight away that she detests gnomes, yet curiously submitting the winning entry in my blog-naming contest.

The Roamin' Gnomials Naming Trophy was rejected by the winner, an Irish ex-pat, who gave it to her husband, who displayed it in his office. Unfortunately for her, word got around, and now the gnomes are seeking revenge.
The Roamin’ Gnomials Naming Trophy was rejected by the winner, an Irish ex-pat, who gave it to her husband, who displayed it in his office. Unfortunately for her, word got around, and now the gnomes are seeking revenge.

Winning the blog-naming contest wasn’t her mistake, however. Her mistake was rejecting her prize, and that outrageous act drew the attention of gnomic eyes from half a world away.

Here’s what I’ve been able to piece together today after an urgent investigation:

Hildegard was born and raised in Ireland, but moved to the United States many years ago. Still, she very much remains a product of the ould sod, which basically means that she eats gruel and hates gnomes.

Why this uneasy fascination with gnomes? Well, if you’d been paying attention, you’d know by now that Ireland is the one country on the face of the earth where gnomes do not exist, and that is because, eons ago, they lost a bloody war with the leprechauns.

No doubt Hildegard remembers listening to the old tales while sitting around the turf fire at her grandmother’s knee. But Irish parents and grandparents are no different than parents and grandparents everywhere in that they don’t like to frighten their wee ones. That’s why the old stories never say what happened to all the gnomes that were routed out of Ireland.

Let me ask you, if you were a gnome and you were forced into the sea by an army of crazed leprechauns, where would you go? Well, you’d go to Scotland, of course, because that’s the closest land, and with their short arms and legs, gnomes aren’t exactly cut out to be long-distance swimmers! There may be no gnomes in Ireland, but Scotland is absolutely overrun with them, and they’re not exactly on good terms with Irish sympathizers!

Hildegard might have been safe here in the United States, but once she forced the Roamin’ Gnomials Blog-Naming Contest gnome out of her house — consigning him to her husband’s workplace — word got around, and a hit squad of Scottish gnomes apparently hopped on the first freighter headed west. And where are the leprechauns? Well, they sure ain’t here in the United States, so Hildegard can’t depend on their protection!

You think you've got a gnome problem? You haven't seen anything until you've seen what they have to deal with in Scotland. And now a Scottish Gnome Hit Squad has been sent to the United States, and at least one of them was pregnant!
You think you’ve got a gnome problem? You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen what they have to deal with in Scotland. And now a Scottish Gnome Hit Squad has been sent to the United States, and at least one of them was pregnant! Hildegard thinks she’s got problems with the three juveniles she captured? Just wait until the adults come out to play!

In Hildegard’s photo near the top of the page, note the extremely small size of the gnomes she captured. She’s feeling sassy that she caught them, but I’ve got news for her. Those are adolescent gnomes, probably the children of adult gnomes still hiding somewhere in the walls of her house! The gestation time for gnomes is just three weeks, and they’re born fully bearded. What this means is that at least one member of the gnomish hit squad was pregnant when she set sail from Scotland to the United States. This was probably their plan, and I have no doubt that gnomes are actively living and breeding inside the walls, waiting until their numbers increase to the point that they will overrun her home like bed bugs in a fifth-floor walkup in the Bronx.

Here’s my personal appeal to Hildegard: One thing can save you. Get the Roamin’ Gnomials Naming Prize back and put him in a prominent place in your home. You might even want to build a shrine around him, because once that horde of angry Scottish gnomes comes out of hiding, your life will be a living hell and you won’t even be able to sell your house.

Do not be deceived by your ability to catch three juveniles when you unexpectedly snapped on the lights. The adults are much faster and meaner, and they won’t be pleased that you’ve made prisoners of their offspring! Make peace now, before it’s too late!

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4 Comments

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  1. By all means, Hildegard, have an ample supply of haggis and a 12 year old bottle of Glenlivet on hand! Offer them pizza and beer at your peril. If it’s not Scottish, it’s crrrap!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I tend to agree, but then I’ve had some mighty fine Irish whiskey, too!

    Like

  3. Gnome hit squads??? You people need help.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Irish whiskey is fine indeed! But I think Scottish gnomes would insist on Scotch.

    Liked by 1 person

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