A garden gnome tale
“Well, kiss my crackers!” Thelonius peered through the window of Old Lady McGee’s and swallowed a lugie. “She does dress up like a penguin on Friday nights.”
“Let me have a look.” Frankie’s back was hurting on account of Thelonius not wearing his tennis shoes again. He loved his cowboy boots. Hardly ever took them off. Frankie was always the one who had to bend over and let Thelonius look through windows. He was really getting tired of that bossy pants.
“Holy crap!”
“What? What holy crap?” Frankie seriously wanted to stand up straight. Garden gnomes aren’t supposed to be hunched over for long periods of time. That’s why they’re always standing in gardens, not kneeling, not hunched, and certainly not looking like some cowboy’s desperate boyfriend. “Tell me! Which crap is holy?”
Thelonius cleared his throat and spit a lugie. It smacked the window, hard. The window cracked.
“Dammit, I forgot to turn my head!”
Frankie suddenly felt relieved of Thelonius’s weight on his shoulders. He raised up and saw Thelonius leaping over the old lady’s rose bush, sliding into position at his designated place next to a snapdragon. Right then, the front door opened. Frankie froze.
Image from Pixabay.
“Oh, dear. Who put you up here?”
The old lady’s hands were cold, and it didn’t feel right being carried home by a penguin. Frankie found himself nostalgic for Thelonius’s cowboy boots and wished Old Lady McGee would find another perfume. The lavender was about to make him sneeze.
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This post originally appeared at Narrative.