The following was found this evening while clearing up memory on my computer, for no other reason than I was waiting for a load of laundry to finish. I don't remember when I wrote this, or that I even had, but my mind cracks me up. Perhaps, novel material. ;) Ha!
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As most men do, he was not living up to his potential. I met him as he was riding on the back of a turtle-- an attempt to speed up his journey. It takes an awfully lazy creature to determine that a turtle is faster than their own two feet. Gnomes are rather boring creatures; that is, with exception to their phenomenal arguing skills. Being wrong is never an option for a gnome. In that way, they’d make great lawyers.
As a young girl I was taught that men were chivalrous and I was to be distressed and waiting for their help. Then I grew up, and learned that at least the second part was true. It seemed situations always got the better of me. Yet, there was still engrained within my soul, hope that perhaps my mother was right about men.
This hope should have been shattered when I learned that my prince was in fact charming, but was only that way so as to distract me from his thieving and lying. My hope should have been erased when I learned that my husband was responsible for my father’s death. Certainly, my hope in the goodness of men should have been taken when I was kidnapped by a small army of them.
Despite the world sending me signal after signal that my mother had lied to me, I still hoped. I was sitting on the muddy ground, chained to a towering oak tree when I exercised my faith in men one last time. I weakly called out to the gnome, slowly trotting by on his turtle.
“Sir,” my voice trembled at first, “Sir, could you please help me?”
“Bah! Can’t you see I’m in a great hurry? It is none of my worry that you got yourself tangled up in misfortune. I see no reason to put a hold on my journey, and wrap myself in your troubles.”
Seeing this slothful maggot would be of no use to me, I directed my next words toward the turtle. “Mighty fine traveler you have there. I do hope you charge extra to listen to his delightful ramblings.”
The turtle stopped for a moment and nodded in my direction. A man of few words; I liked that.
The gnome was not about to be ignored, “Missy, I suspect that tongue of yours is precisely the reason you’re stuck to that tree. Perhaps the wolves will take it off your hands; if you stay here long enough, you’ll find out. Then again, they may not be able to stop at eating your tongue. Hungry creatures, wolves are.” The chubby little man chuckled a little too hard and nearly fell off his perch.
As he collected himself I grasped a tiny little pebble and flicked it directly into his forehead. Although it was smaller than a button on his shirt, it knocked him off the turtle.
I should warn you to never attack a gnome when you are not in a position to run away. The wretched little thing bit my toe, and much like when a piece of parchment slices the top of your finger, I could feel nothing but excruciating pain.
The awful thing then climbed atop my leg and although he was hardly taller than my longest finger, managed to make my insides turn in the most awful way. I became instantly fearful for my life; there is nothing like being locked in place to make a tiny person seem awfully large and menacing.
“You silly little girl,” he cried as he made his way shakily up to my knee, “never attack a man who is on vacation. He’ll have much more energy to fight back when his mind is not bogged down with other things.” He placed his stubby arms on his hips and tapped his foot. He seemed to be waiting for an apology.
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