The Unusual Life

The life were born into can sometimes be, well, less then ordinary. A young boy from a small town in Illinois deals with the average teenagers troubles. Girls, homework, teachers, and on occasion small, sharp toothed, bald midgets bound to screw with your day. Sounds like the life right?


1. Prelude

     The creak of the floor board underfoot, the hiss and cracks of a tree giving to the winds mighty blow, the crack in the sidewalk sending you tumbling to the ground, All normal unsuspicious things to the average naive person, But of course not for me. I was born with what some may call a gift. No I don’t see spooky ghosts floating around of your dead grandma Carol. I see things someone would call "beast' or "monsters" if you will. This is where you giggle and stop reading this story because you think as if I've lost my rocker. But I’m serious. For instance let me tell you a story of when I was eight. 

I knew I had a gift when I was young. I think my parent thought I had a vivid imagination always telling them of the things with eight eyes that squirmed across are living room floor that they seem not to be able to see. On occasion what I called wiggly worms would trip my father sending him into a raging rant about the quote on quote "damn carpenter who can't even put an effing carpet in right always catching me up!"

 Regardless, in our kitchen pantry lived an aggressive lawn gnome. Cute right? Not! Picture a miniature toddler standing two feet tall, now knock out a few of its teeth, lets add some wrinkles to that boring brow, and give it beady, little, slanted eyes. Not only that but for the most part you find them rather bare, shaking what the good God gave them. Thankfully the one that we so graciously housed occasionally would emerge from his home at night sporting a Fritos bag as a toga. Now the little bugger never seemed to notice I'd sneak to the doorway of the kitchen to see him riffling through our drawers looking for silver ware, or milling in our laundry basket for socks. Just a side note, I don’t know why but gnomes have an obsession with socks, the myth of your dryer eating your socks not true. Your house is just infested with gnomes. But one day I happen to make eye contact with the sock stealing midget. He then hollered something at me and began to charge at me comparable to a pint sized rhinoceros. Confused, I took a step back as the little mad man lunged forward sinking his teeth into my ankles. I hollered as those knarly munchers took hold of my tiny stick legs. Blood began to drip which seemed to disgust my attacker, he then began grumbling something through barred teeth along the lines of “ear od ut da ell ew en eten ked, ew aste ike it." Which he then released and began sputtering and spitting blood from his mouth saying rather unkind words of how I tasted as he headed for the pantry. At this point I was enraged scooping the 5 pound kicking lawn ornament with the tongue of sailor and placed him in a nearby box just big enough to shove my mini assaulter into. Quickly sealing the box I shoved it into my closet till morning. By morning the muffled groans and yells had subsided to a dull roar occasionally hearing a "UCK EW!”. I picked up the box placed it on the neighbors door step and ding dong ditched. To this day that garden gnome on the Sebring’s yard seems to glare at me as I pass by. I guess he didn’t like the hat and outfit Jeremy’s mother chooses for him.

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