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The Matter of Gnomes
Feb. 15th, 2022 12:16 pmPrompt: What Really Matters
When Gumshoe the Gnome went missing Madge walked the halls, looking in each cubicle for the culprit.
Eric from Accounting had a gnome but it wasn’t four foot tall and had no red bowtie. She smashed his secretary lamp and tipped the gnome over.
Tiffany from Sub-Basement B had a lovely unicorn on her desk but someone had set it aflame and Madge didn’t care for the smell of scorched majesty.
She’d searched almost everywhere but had found no sign of Gumshoe.
It had to be one of the wicked spirits, perhaps the twins or Karen from Finance, she thought.
Madge decided to ask the Rooster, he worked on the highest floor and knew everything there was to know.
Elevator. The halls twisted around her, forming patterns from alternating checkerboard patterns. An ancient elevator appeared, the iron doors opened.
She whispered the secret phrase.
Lambshanks.
Inside, the round floor lights lit up on the panel. The elevator began to move.
At floor one-hundred, the doors opened and Madge peeked her head out. The walls on this floor were bruised shades of pink and blue. The ground was made of soft grass. She kicked off her shoes, enjoying the cool wet strands.
She’d missed this floor, she thought, as she walked towards the giant tree in the center of it all.
The Rooster met her there. He resembled an owl rather than his namesake. White and tan feathers formed a halo around his sharp smile. At his feet stood Gumshoe the Gnome.
Madge gnashed her teeth, stomping until the young grass under her feet wilted and browned.
“You moth-riddled arse! How dare you steal what is mine?!”
The Rooster laughed, the sound shook the tree branches above him, shaking fuschia leaves onto his shoulders.
“Was it yours? I found him while weeding some crabgrass. Let us negotiate.”
The sound of bells filled Madge’s head. Dust stung her eyes. She closed them, rubbing the back of her eyelids with her closed fist. When she opened them she saw no trees or grass.
They sat in an office across a table. Gumshoe stood on top, wearing what Madge considered his most judgmental hat.
“Give me the gnome and I will only smash half of your things,” Madge said.
“Never!” The Rooster said, chuckling into his chest.
“You are too cheerful for this negotiation!” Madge shouted.
The Rooster shrugged. “You do not call or visit with me anymore. What else was I to do? It’s lonely here with only the wind and mounds of paperwork yet to be done.”
Madge narrowed her eyes. “I will visit with you but I must have Gumshoe back. You will serve tea with real cream. I may or may not smash some of your things.”
The Rooster nodded and slowly edged Gumshoe the Gnome over to Madge’s side of the table. She admired his bright blue eyes and jaunty chin, clutching him to her chest.
“Karen from Finance did not appreciate you, but I do,” she whispered.
When Gumshoe the Gnome went missing Madge walked the halls, looking in each cubicle for the culprit.
Eric from Accounting had a gnome but it wasn’t four foot tall and had no red bowtie. She smashed his secretary lamp and tipped the gnome over.
Tiffany from Sub-Basement B had a lovely unicorn on her desk but someone had set it aflame and Madge didn’t care for the smell of scorched majesty.
She’d searched almost everywhere but had found no sign of Gumshoe.
It had to be one of the wicked spirits, perhaps the twins or Karen from Finance, she thought.
Madge decided to ask the Rooster, he worked on the highest floor and knew everything there was to know.
Elevator. The halls twisted around her, forming patterns from alternating checkerboard patterns. An ancient elevator appeared, the iron doors opened.
She whispered the secret phrase.
Lambshanks.
Inside, the round floor lights lit up on the panel. The elevator began to move.
At floor one-hundred, the doors opened and Madge peeked her head out. The walls on this floor were bruised shades of pink and blue. The ground was made of soft grass. She kicked off her shoes, enjoying the cool wet strands.
She’d missed this floor, she thought, as she walked towards the giant tree in the center of it all.
The Rooster met her there. He resembled an owl rather than his namesake. White and tan feathers formed a halo around his sharp smile. At his feet stood Gumshoe the Gnome.
Madge gnashed her teeth, stomping until the young grass under her feet wilted and browned.
“You moth-riddled arse! How dare you steal what is mine?!”
The Rooster laughed, the sound shook the tree branches above him, shaking fuschia leaves onto his shoulders.
“Was it yours? I found him while weeding some crabgrass. Let us negotiate.”
The sound of bells filled Madge’s head. Dust stung her eyes. She closed them, rubbing the back of her eyelids with her closed fist. When she opened them she saw no trees or grass.
They sat in an office across a table. Gumshoe stood on top, wearing what Madge considered his most judgmental hat.
“Give me the gnome and I will only smash half of your things,” Madge said.
“Never!” The Rooster said, chuckling into his chest.
“You are too cheerful for this negotiation!” Madge shouted.
The Rooster shrugged. “You do not call or visit with me anymore. What else was I to do? It’s lonely here with only the wind and mounds of paperwork yet to be done.”
Madge narrowed her eyes. “I will visit with you but I must have Gumshoe back. You will serve tea with real cream. I may or may not smash some of your things.”
The Rooster nodded and slowly edged Gumshoe the Gnome over to Madge’s side of the table. She admired his bright blue eyes and jaunty chin, clutching him to her chest.
“Karen from Finance did not appreciate you, but I do,” she whispered.
