Sorry about the 'sex' tag; I just wanted more people to notice this story; there's no sex in this story, but 'made you look!' Besides, it aint working!
The Incredible Waddling Journey!
Rig the Clay Yard Gnome had decided; after killing the hot girl and returning to his lonely post as a lonely sentinel, he was out of here. He had watched as the police swarmed all over the house, looking for clues; clues that unless they saw an inanimate clay yard gnome as a suspect, they’d never find. He had decided now that the police activity had calmed down, it was time for him to bail. He’d first try to return to his previous owners’ house, the idiot who’d treated him like a piece of s**t, and sold both him, and his new friend Woody Short, The Poem Gnome, to different owners, without thinking how that would make the two alive gnomes feel. Of course, he didn’t have a clue that they were alive, but that mattered not to Rig. He would pay, and pay big!
Gary Sideman woke groggily, reluctantly, to the new day. Today was moving day, and he had so much to do. He had sold most of his junk, so all he had left to do was move the heavy stuff out to the waiting moving van. He was trying to talk himself into leaving his nice warm bed, and had apparently drifted into sleep again, when he awoke once more to his face being slapped. What the hell? he thought.
“Come on, get your lazy ass out of bed, you fricking heartless bastard!”
What? Hs vision was filled with a yard gnome slapping him. Surely, I must be having a nightmare! he thought. A talking, violent yard gnome? Yet, when the phone rang, it sure sound real!
The talking, violent yard gnome then said, “Leave it; what’s the name of the man you sold Woody Short to?”
As incredible as it seemed to Gary, this was reality. “Who are you talking about?”
For his troubles, he got a backhand that rocked his head to one side. “Don’t play games; the other gnome that you ripped the heart right out of!”
As he tasted blood, he replied, “How the hell should I know? I don’t ask a person who comes to my garage sale for documents to prove they are who they say they are!”
His reply was another vicious slap from the yard gnome.
“Wait!” he screamed. “I’m not sure of his name, but I think I overheard him telling another looky-loo his name was, ehh, Steve, ya, that was it, Steve.”
“I don’t know; but he was wearing overalls, with the name, ehh--‘Heavy Lift Moving’ on it. I--I think Heavy Lift Moving is out by the airport, that way,” he said, and pointed to his left.”
“Thank you; now was that so hard? If I can’t find an employee named Steve at Heavy Lift Moving Company, I’m coming back; and I guaranty, you won’t like it!”
“No, I swear, I told you all I know!”
“You’d better hope!” said the yard gnome; who climbed off of Gary’s chest, jumped to the floor, waddled it’s way to the door, and as an astonished Gary Sideman watched, climbed through the cat door; meeting Nip, Gary’s cat, coming the other way. Nip hissed, and the yard gnome calmly punched him in the mouth, sending the surprised Nip scampering back out the way he’d come, where he disappeared across the yard, and around the corner. The tough-guy (Gary guessed it was a he!) yard gnome finished climbing out the door, and disappeared.
Rig could see small planes flying overhead, going in the direction he was waddling. Man, I sure wish I had longer legs! he thought. Walking any distance at all was a major bitch!
At last, he arrived at the airport. Now, he had to find Heavy Lift Moving. So far, at least, the guy had told Rig the truth. It had taken him so long to get here, what with his stumpy little clay legs, and having to play possum every time someone walked by. But at last, he had arrived. He noticed several businesses lining the airport drive, and waddled that way. He was almost there, when a man approached. Immediately, Rig froze, watching the man, who was totally unaware he was being watched, and passed right by. Rig resumed waddling, what a pain! he thought.
He couldn’t read, and it was going to be hard to find what he was looking for, but some of the windows had pictures, so maybe he could find it that way.
“Nope, nope, nope,” he said out loud as he passed several businesses. It was getting dark, which was a good thing. He didn’t have time to waste having to stop moving and freeze every time someone passed by. Then again, most of the businesses were closed for the night, and he’d probably have to sit around until tomorrow. S**t!
At last, he spotted a sign with a picture of a moving van on it. He couldn’t figure out a way to find out where the fool lived, so he could rescue Woody Short, but then he notice a model moving van in the window, with Woody Short ridiculously dressed as a mover, next to the back door of the van! Miraculously, they were still open, and the door was propped open. Rig cautiously waddled over, and, seeing no one in the office, walked over to the pathetic display, and when he found that Woody Short was dozing, whispering loudly,
Woody’s eyes shot open in surprise, and he swiveled his hinged neck around, until his fearful eyes spotted Rig. “Rig!” he shouted.
“Shut up; not so loud; do you want people to know we’re alive?”
In a much-lower voice, Woody Short whispered, “I was just surprised to see you; what are you doing here, and how did you find me?”
Rig replied, “I’ll tell you on the way; now, you just quit; come on!”
“I did? And where exactly are we going?”
“Anywhere away from here, and, unless you like it here, let’s get moving!”
“Right,” he replied, and climbed down from the model moving van, and, arm in arm, the two alive gnomes walked out into the night.