Wicked Appetite
“Mark had only the bare essentials for furniture. A couch with a quilt draped over the back, a side table with a table lamp, a flat screen television set into a shelf system. Every other space was taken up with gnomes crammed into an eclectic assortment of glass-fronted display cases. China gnomes, plaster gnomes, wooden gnomes, bejeweled gnomes, paper gnomes, books dedicated to gnomes, intricately carved marble gnomes.
Carl rushed up to one of the cases and stared at the gnomes. “Eee?”
“Gnomes,...” I told him.
He tapped on the glass, but the gnomes didn’t do anything. He frowned and tapped harder. He looked up at Diesel.
“That’s as interesting as it gets,” Diesel said to Carl.
Carl moved on to the open shelves around the TV and stopped in front of a bobblehead gnome. He carefully touched the head with his fingertip, and the head bounced and jiggled. He looked at it more closely and touched it again. More vigorous bouncing. He grabbed the head, and it came off in his hand.
“Eep!”MoreLess
Carl rushed up to one of the cases and stared at the gnomes. “Eee?”
“Gnomes,...” I told him.
He tapped on the glass, but the gnomes didn’t do anything. He frowned and tapped harder. He looked up at Diesel.
“That’s as interesting as it gets,” Diesel said to Carl.
Carl moved on to the open shelves around the TV and stopped in front of a bobblehead gnome. He carefully touched the head with his fingertip, and the head bounced and jiggled. He looked at it more closely and touched it again. More vigorous bouncing. He grabbed the head, and it came off in his hand.
“Eep!”MoreLess
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