Words: interloper, gnome, bucolic, karaoke, Albanian mud weasels, shrunken head.
First Day of Vacation ~ S.K. Nicholls
After ten hours on the train with my darling wife riding across the bucolic German countryside, I was relieved to know there was a pub down the stairs from our hostel. Twelve rounds of the best ale to be found and they started up with the karaoke, which pounded on my head in German and forced me into a foul mood. I followed the ale with eight shots of ice cold Jägermeister, trying to drown out the noise.
My head and my bladder were about to explode. I was looking for the bathroom when I stumbled through doors to find myself in a lovely patio garden. It was dark out there, so I whipped old Joe out and started pissing, when all of a sudden I heard a voice, “Stop whizzing on my head, you Yank!”
“Who’s that talking?”
“It’s me, down here by your knees, taking a golden shower!”
I looked down to see a poor little garden gnome dripping in urine. “You talkin to me?”
“Of course, I’m talking to you, nobody out here but you in that Yankees jacket, and those pesky Albanian mud weasels. And both so disrespectful.”
I slid down beside the little fellow, not certain that I could stand any longer. “I wa…I wa…I wasn’t expecting anyone to notice,” I said, “Didn’t think anyone el..else was out here and I’m terribly ssss…sorry about your drenching. I didn’t know, uh, I didn’t know gnomes could talk.”
“No worries, happens all the time. You should be more concerned about those weasels than me.”
“Well, I…I know weasels can’t talk.”
“Who says we can’t talk, you foreign interloper?” asked the first weasel.
“Hand over your wallet!” demanded the second.
“Do it now or we’ll gnaw your eyes out!” said the third.
“I KNOW weasels can’t talk!” I looked at the gnome and him at me.
“You can’t even stand,” said the gnome. “Better hand it over.”
I passed my wallet to the closest weasel and they scampered away, my wallet clenched in sharp teeth.”
Suddenly my wife appeared out of nowhere, looking like she had a shrunken head. “What the hell happened to you?”
Sitting beside the soaked garden gnome, who of course was now silent, I told her my story.
“I swear that’s how I lo..lo..lost my wallet, honey!”