Neighborly Mummification


Today started out just like every other day. I got up, ate some grits, and combed my beard. I was disrupted from my routine by the sounds of sawing and obscure machinery. It must be the new neighbors, I thought.

The neighbors always seemed a little off.¬† They moved in last weekend, but this is the first weird noise that I’ve heard downstairs. Not that I’m being racist, but they are from Egypt after all. Even though we’re freezing our balls off, they refuse to wear shoes or shirts. I have no idea how they ever get any service.


I guess I just wanted to make sure everything was okay down there. More than anything I was just curious to see what was going on on the floor below me. They have no windows, but I was able to peek through a tiny mouse hole at the floor board.

This is what I saw. I’m not exactly sure what it is that I saw, but I do know that I saw it.


Medieval torture? Kinky rituals? Ancient mummification?

Your guess is as good as mine. I got the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I figured if I was spotted, I might be next on their table!

I’m submitting a complaint to King Jerry The Gnome today about these new mummy neighbors. This does not feel like¬† a safe place for gnomes anymore and we were here first!

Still shaking with fear but in a pissed off kinda way,
Dumblebore The Gnome

This entry was posted in Intoxicated Gnomish Escapades and Ramblings by Dumblebore. Bookmark the permalink.

About Dumblebore

I’m Horace’s little brother. You probably know him, but you’ve probably never heard of me. Such is life. He calls me dumb and a bore. Hence my nickname. I can’t remember my real name.

However, I provide an important service to The Gnome Abode. I’m the gnomish grave digger. C’mon, we live a long time, but you didn’t expect us to live forever, did you?!

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