Gnome, Sweet Gnome

By Tiber

Ever since Mom had the sighting of that unknown older woman up in the attics, everyone’s afraid to go up there. Iris Nell was looking for Amadeus, her new cat, though, so she braved it.

And sure enough, she saw an older woman scurrying away. Surprisingly, it was not the unknown old woman. It was our older woman, Aunt April.

As you know, Aunt April has developed sort of a crush on Jasper, our renter, and, to his horror, she sometimes lurks outside his door. But generally, she’s rarely spotted out of her rooms up here on the third floor.

Iris Nell was therefore curious as to what Aunt April might be doing up on the attic floor and she peeked into the room she’d just vacated.

And there, instead of the emptiness Iris Nell had expected, was a sea of garden gnomes.

It looked like a Swedish little people’s cocktail party.
It looked like a hobbit haberdasher’s convention.

It looked like a room full of hot loot all pointing towards a felony.

So Iris Nell came and kindly inflicted this information on me. One of the phrases that’s constantly used by my family is, “It’s not what you think.” But here, we know it’s exactly what we think, which brought up another common phrase heard around here, “Now what do we do?”

Some of the gnomes were new but you could tell by the attire and condition that some of them went back decades. It seems sort of rotten to squeal on Aunt April to Dad, her own brother. And as for telling the police, I don’t think they give you a discount jail term just because you “shop” in volume.

How the hell is Aunt April pulling this off? She hasn’t driven in years. Is she hiring a taxi and paying off the driver to look the other way? Is she booking 1-800-Gnome-Van?

Most people only have to return their aunt’s ugly gift gloves. But if we end up having to return all of these, we’re going to be on troll patrol forever.

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