A while back I promised my best friend that I would write her a bed time story --- that is to say, a children's story. We both appreciate children's stories greatly, for it takes a good bit of wit. And so, I have begun a children's story that involves a gnome, and I thought I would share it.
For those of you who are wondering what became of my promise to post my first chapter of my book, I am having to retype it, as the file I saved it on decided to be stupid. But thankfully, I always print a carbon copy of everything...
The following story happened only once and upon a time, as is proper for any particular story worthy of note. It is not so much of importance that you note the exact time that it happened, just so long as you note that it has only happened once, and time was indeed involved.
The events concern a certain gnome, and what became of him, and what he learned afterward. How he is now, and whether he has well, or has forgotten his own story, or has ignored it entirely, is also one of those unimportant side notes which may or may not be revealed.
We will call him Giblet. His real name, which is Oswald Harriet Eligius Fickle Persnikect III, is a rather long name and trips the tongue at times, and so I have decided to call him Giblet, and as I am the narrator and very much in a position of power, you would do well to do the same.
Giblet was a gnome of the third class. Now, since you are not a gnome, you will not know what this means. I feel fairly safe in my assumption that you are not a gnome, because you are reading this, and most gnomes only know a tiny bit about reading and writing, such as that the fourth letter of the alphabet is ‘o’, and that you should always end your sentences with a question mark when writing in the formal tone.
A third class gnome is a gnome who has not as of yet gained distinction from his fellow gnomes, and this is a very poor state to be in indeed. Gnomes a generally a distinguished group, and I’m sure that even you, a un-gnome-like creature, have heard of quite a few of them.
For example, the great Somebody, who was very famous and is still often talked of in human conversation. Often you will hear of how Somebody killed Them, or how Somebody helped Me, or how Somebody took My’s money, which was a very good thing as My didn’t deserve that money to begin with, and got it through illegal actions. But that is quite a different story.
Also of note is the celebrated gnome Nobody, who was a helper of the people. I’m sure that your mother is a particular fan of Nobody, as all mothers are, and often tells you about how Nobody took out the trash, and how Nobody cleaned the house. As a matter of fact, Nobody was so helpful in so many things (Nobody stopped many wars, fires, and other such tragedies), that most gnomes felt quite guilty they weren’t quite as helpful as he was and had him killed to balance things out a bit.
Giblet, however, had no particular skills or abilities. He had nearly failed Gnome School, and when time came for superlatives and such, he was voted most likely to continue to smell like wet socks and dung beetles. He thought this was rather unfair, as he would smell like ladybugs and caterpillars but for the fact that his parents were rather poor and could only afford the cheap cologne. But in a gnome’s world, as in the human world, no one much cares for excuses and poverty, and they are generally dismissed or ignored.
He was also teased because of his name. You see, his parents had spent some of their younger years hiding in that space you can never quite reach under the bed, observing humans and falling quite in love with them. And in tribute to humans, they had named Giblet that terribly long name mentioned before, rather than a perfectly respectable gnome name, such as Someone, or They, or Us. He had a younger brother named Someone, and Someone was already in popular demand (Someone needs to fix this, Someone needs to help out). But no one ever needed an Oswald Harriet Eligius Fickle Persnikect III, not even humans, who generally need quite a lot.
One day, when the sun was not quite doing his job to satisfaction and was busy blaming the clouds, who were crying because of it, Giblet decided that he would affect a similar attitude and stared at the tips of his gloves in bitter loneliness. He knew that he had best get up and perform some sort of useless action, but all he could do was think of Something. Something was quite possibly the most beautiful gnome-girl that had ever lived, and everyone wanted Something. So everyone spent all of their energy running around and performing tasks in hopes of impressing her, so that they might win Something.
Giblet, of course, wanted Something more than Anything, and much more than Nobody ever wanted Nothing (which was quite a love affair and sung about many a time by the poets), but there was no way that he was ever going to be able to impress her – not smelling as he did and wearing gloves with tatters at the fingers.
She as a generally kind gnome-girl, and felt sorry for our Giblet, because he was so strange and has such an unbecoming name. So, to make up for it, Something let Giblet walk her home on occasion, and that is really where the trouble began.
------------------------ Will be continued ------------------------------
I do not want to know myself. I do not want to be myself. I know better, so I will strive to be better.
Next part.
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You see, gnomes, much like humans, have a problem with people who are different. I cannot tell you the number of times I have seen a gnome discriminated against because of the length of his toenails or the color of his ear wax (mainly because I have not seen such things take place, but I have heard stories, and they are atrocious). Giblet was about as different as a gnome can get. Not only because of his name, but because he hee-d instead of haw-ed and stomped instead of clapped, and when most gnomes were moving to the pace of their own sneakers, he was wearing clogs. Everyone knows that gnomes do not wear clogs.
And, of course, there is always at least one gnome who is too perfect and is just the spitting image of a proper gnome. That gnome was Everybody. And, as luck would have it, Everybody wanted Something, and Everybody abhored Giblet. So of course, being an upstanding gnome, very clever, and with all of his limbs in the correct socket, Everybody did what any upstanding gnome would do – he decided to win Somebody while simultaneously humiliating Giblet.
It is a greatly revered gnome tradition that no gnome-girl is to be wed until two gnomes have battled over her honor, and the one who wins will be the one who brings her something that steals her heart. Quite literally. The heart isn’t vital to the anatomy of said creature, like humans, but really quite an ornamental organ, much like the appendix.
Going back to that afternoon on which Giblet walked Something home – though the sun was not quite as sunny as one might prefer, and the birds quite silent and no flowers blossoming, Giblet was perfectly convinced that this was the most beautiful day he had ever seen. Most beautiful because Something was there, and she lit up the forest. But Something looked quite dejected and her mouth was the picture of silence, so Giblet mimicked her and pretended to know what it was that they should both be so solemn about.
Finally, one they had reached Something’s tree trunk, she spoke.
“Oswald…”
“Yes, Something?”
“I’m afraid you cannot walk me home anymore.”
Giblet’s heart sunk a bit, sensing another rejection like unto the many he had suffered in the past. “Why? Did I step on the grass in a way that displeases you?”
“No, Giblet. You’re perfect. Except of course for the fact that you smell so poorly, and your name is so funny, and you are generally disliked and made fun of. Also, you’re quite a clumsy creature, and your tongue curls in a funny manner. Other than that, you’re perfect.”
“Well, then what is the problem?”
“I have decided I will wed Everybody, and he can easily find another gnome who likes me to challenge. But since you walk me home, he’s sure to choose you, and you can’t possibly win.”
Giblet hung his head in shame. It was true, he couldn’t win in a battle against such a perfect gnome. Unless, of course…
“Something, may I suggest something?”
“You know that suggesting is generally frowned upon.”
“What if I went to the land of the sock-goblins, captured their bravest warrior’s favorite sock, and brought it back to you. Would I win your hand then, and then would you let me compete?”
Something gasped – and it was a very appropriate gasp indeed. For sock-goblins are the gnomes sworn enemies, and very dread creatures indeed. Even humans have problems with them – they are the fiends that steal socks while you watch TV and your laundry sits safe and warm in your drier, for they only have one foot and therefore only need one. However, if two sock-goblins go stealing together, they will steal two different socks, and you will be left to hunt for the matches till the day when you give up and throw the mismatched pairs away. Upon that day, the sock-goblins will tire of their prizes and return them. They are devilish creatures.
And everyone knows that sock-goblins are the equivilant of terrible monsters to gnomes, because of their gaping mouths filled with deadly lint and square set face filled with an ignorant look.
“You will surely be captured and have your socks stolen and rent! Then all of gnomedom will know what you have done and will proceed to point and laugh.”
“Still,” said Giblet, striking a rather brave pose. “I must try.” And he set off toward the dread lands of the sock-goblins, tripping only once over an exposed root before beginning to trot in a very jaunty manner.
I do not want to know myself. I do not want to be myself. I know better, so I will strive to be better.
