Be One with the Hammer

The little bastard burst through the kitchen window, ax in hand, before evening tea. Shattered glass clinked against the sink, stovetop, and a hissing teakettle.

“Everything okay, Carlo?” my sister called from the den, where she had been discussing hammer meditation techniques with one of her friends and our next-door neighbor.

Before I could answer, the garden gnome pressed the blade of his ax to the side of my left knee. He grinned… with too many teeth… inches from my crotch… “Speak,” he said, “and my ax will kiss you lame.”

My lack of response must’ve worried my sister because she walked into the kitchen, followed by the other women.

“Isn’t he cute?” our neighbor said, extending a hand towards her gnome.

Unlike most readers of crappy horror might expect, everything didn’t happen too fast.

My sister’s voice sounded as if it was being filtered through marmalade, when she yelled, “Look at his teeth, you old batty.”

The old batty continued moving towards the gnome, disregarding the jagged teeth cramming his crimson mouth.

My sister and her friend reached for our neighbor, but before they could tackle her, the gnome had rushed forward and chopped her arm at the elbow.

I smacked the gnome on the side of the head with the teakettle. The hot water ruined the red of his cap, but did little for his bloodthirstiness.

The gnome turned to face me. I stepped back, bumped into the sink. He smiled. My hands were torn between protecting my most vital organ and grabbing a rolling pin.

My sister’s friend solved my dilemma—she pulled a sledgehammer out of who knows where, and smashed the gnome to bits, while chanting, “Be one with the hammer.”

Our neighbor lost one arm, but not her love for gnomes. “They’re cute little devils,” she said, when I suggested hammers and teakettles as alternative garden decorations.

a wee note…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Title-Tale (Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly): I invited a bunch of Garden dwellers (yes, you and me too) to write a new 3-stanza poem or a very short story (of 313 words or fewer) inspired by 1 of 13 slightly strange book titles. I chose How to Survive a Garden Gnome Attack: Defend Yourself When the Lawn Warriors Strike (and They Will), by Chuck Sambuchino.

In Gloom

Six Elders approved, six thought roads were death to the land. The choice would be hers.

Her animal had seen what progress did to wolf in the south, heard the weeping of trees.

“We’ll cut trees”, the businessman addressed the grove, “but it’s a win-win. Roads mean jobs for your people, and our clients will gain easier access to our resort.”

My people need work, she thought. “No trees, no people”, her animal growled back.

Help me, Mother. She looked up, and watched a thick cloud slither between sun and soil, shrouding the trees in gloom. “No roads”, she said.

the wee notes…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the creative fun. Follow this LINK, to read what others have written out of the sun, clouds, trees…

photo by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields