Poet Commentaries

Evil Garden Plot








What a sticky situation.  My wife inherited a garden gnome.  Her family called him Smiley but I have trouble getting that past my lips; I can only manage Smirky. No one can be that cheerful after all.

To top it all off I recieved a tip via an anominous post that only contained the words “the garden gnome is evil” How do you tell your wife, who loves the gift to bits, that we are now possessed with all things dark.

“Of course I rove him dear.  He will be the perfect addition to our garden.  I have a no probrem, it is the way my tongue risps is all.”

So I carted him off in the barrow introducing him to Stumpy and Rocky ground, to S bend and G force; lovingly bouncing the little guy on my need for speed.  It was a long trip to Eden.

“Where is Smirky” she asks.  “Is that him against the back fence behind the Cedars?”

“It was the only ground hard enough so that he can be stable, where his oversized two foot square boot and chubby rittle belly won’t sink in the mud.”

So I go and fetch him and a barrow full of his kin to find them a new home.  I set him down so he can be apprenticed in all things opposable thumb and 65% moisture.  I select a bubble head maul that looks loose enough that it might lose its mind on the first swing. Perchance it might smash the smirk off its face.

I increase the oddity by laying Smirk’s brethren at his feet whilst I smash them to the right size for a footing, something Smirk can stand on so he does not sink in the mud.

I put wool goggles over his eyes while I work, chanting “this is how we do it” and “I have no choice”.  Kindly I brush the tear chips off his cheek.  There are no cracks yet, so I waggle the sledge more vigorously in a warm up to each swing humming away louder what is becoming a catchy little ditty.

My wife watches and yells through the odd perspective of her pane.  To her it looks like I am hitting him.  “No dear he is fine” I say in a sing sing voice. “I would never hurt him”

“Why does he have a rose coloured scarf over his eyes?”  she asks.

I pretend not to hear and simply finish off placing him in his new home anointing old Smirky with a traditional housewarming gift of peanut butter, honey, bird seed and suet.  His head is given a last affectionate pat and I leave.

“Oh look dear the birds and squirrels love him.”

A harumph is all that is managed as she is disturbing my research.  “I will wash the little guy down when I am done”

For fun I put on a doctor’s gown and wrap a stethoscope around my neck.  Odd behaviour I know but perchance he is one of those gnomes from the concrete plant in Nice.  In that factory they placed a heart of ice in the chest cavity during the pour so that the gnomes were lighter of feet.  When it melted it was absorbed in the concrete, raising the moisture content and strengthening them.  I needed to give him a thorough exam.

Smirky is given a friendly shoulder punch and a couple more affectionate head pats.  The stethoscope temperature is brought down to stone cold so it does not shock him. The exam with the rubber reflex maul begins,  I listen for echoes of a hollow black heart.

I wave cheerfully to my wife; not even faking the cheerful part as I have found Smirky’s heart.

When asked “why are you turning your smock inside out” I cannot express an answer; likely another dialect problem.  How do you explain that the next stage of the exam is more like dentistry than doctoring and I wanted to get into the role more.  Better to say nothing or blurt out “because” than mumbo jumbo.

“What are doing with the drill?”  Well well, I expected this and actually had an answer for it.  The little wire wheel was shown her as I explained “that I have to buff and remove plaque and fungus”.  It was the truth, to clean him up properly this was necessary.

So I switch to the drill and begin drilling the easiest path to the heart.  Starting just next to the eye a couple of discrete 3/16 holes are made.  I hope this helps Smirky.  It is my way of revitalizing his soul and raising his moisture content up to 50%,  making him closer to human.  Each drop of soft rain will slowly fill the void and voila, he will be moved.

Too late the “after” thought. “What are the possible effects of frost”.  Will his heart and soul be able to take the freeze thaw cycle?  I can only hope it won’t..hurt him I mean.

“Mike come quick!!!.  Look how happy Smiley is now that you cleaned him.  He cannot contain himself in our garden with all the flowers and birds.  He is crying he is so very happy.”

“Yeah.  Crocodire tears in my Breeding Heart.”

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