My brother, Sheldon, is the famous traveling gnome and gets all the glory and fame. You’ve probably seen the pictures he’s posted from Zion National Park and Yosemite. You know what I have to say to that?  WOOPDIE FREAKING DO.

I never get invited to go anywhere. Everyone at The Abode says I’m too fragile….too wimpy…too much of a homebody. But you know what? I’m bored as shit.

Well I reached my breaking point last week when I overheard talk of a camping/boating/fishing trip to Southern Illinois. When I asked Master Gnomeplaya and King Jerry if I could tag along, I was laughed at in the face. Some spit even came out when they laughed. It was nasty.

The next day, I filed a strongly worded complaint with the Bureau of Internal Gnomal Affairs (BIGA). A few phone calls and blackmail threats later, and I was in southbound in the Jeep as the ONE AND ONLY gnome attendee.

Some of the humans were fishing and successfully catching fish. I saw those suckers and they were bigger than I am. I said no thank you and decided to sit on a log to watch the festivities and work on my tan.

I think my blood sugar was a little low that morning or maybe it was the motion of the lake. But the lake started spinning and I began sweating like a pig. I heard that pigs don’t really sweat, but I’ll save those musings for another post.

I lost my footing and tumbled off the log and into the murky waters below. Gnomeplaya ran and dived in (Baywatch style) to save me. Apparently, I forgot how to learn to swim along the way of life.

As I was cradled in Gnomeplaya’s arms, I was appalled to see that I had suffered a severe and permanent injury. I am forever missing the sides and bottom of my feet!

How the heck am I supposed to compete with my brother for the status of “traveling gnome” with broken feet!? Try as we might, we could not locate the missing feet parts in the lake water.

Instead of spending the day on a pontoon boat with everyone else, I spent the rest of the weekend in a physical rehabilitation center located on the side of a cliff. To be honest, it wasn’t all that bad….there was hookah to smoke, cards to play, and nice scenery to stare at.

I’m still in rehab and would love it if someone out there would send me flowers, balloons, and/or new feet. I’m a size 0.6 in case you were wondering.

Defeeted but not defeated,

Séamas The Gnome

(yes, I’ve started spelling my name with a thingy-ma-jig over the “e” to make myself sound more foreign. TAKE THAT, SHELDON!)