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368,000 firecrackers and a butcher shop

Tarpapered over on January 1, 2006.

Happy new year, boys and girls!

Happy nude year, toys and twirls!!

Happy Snood year, ploys and burls!!!

The fireworks last night made the lawn gnomes scatter like so many golden cockroaches caught in the stark brightness of a Klieg light. I saw my chance, and I took it—I shot them all with a fork and spoon manufactured by Spork & Moon, Inc., of Secaucus, New Jersey, then stole their Levitican squealing-wheels and beat them all to death with them (the wheels), going “Pwee, pwee, pweedle-deedle deee!!” the whole time. My neighbors didn’t hear a thing! Now, to hide the thousands of tiny little bodies…

When that business was finished, I went out and found some genuine live golden cockroaches to decorate my house with, and perhaps to make a stew with, if there were enough left over once I finished tarpapering my walls with their chitinous shells. A local butcher shop (Szczerbaczewicz & Smith) sold me fifteen bushels of them, all for 85¢! Apparently no one wants golden cockroaches but me, Pnårp.

I only had about six square inches of my house’s walls tarpapered with golden cockroach shells before a fresh batch of garden gnomes returned: About 368,000 of them (the same number of firecrackers I set off in my back yard last night), all at once, pouring in the windows and down from the rafters—coming out of the electrical sockets, up from the cracks in the floor, and through the holes in my ceiling—slithering between the slender, pink toes of Jennifer Love Hewitt’s bare feet—coming through the plumbing, bumbling and stumbling, grumbling and fumbling with their little hats, rumbling and mumbling, and doing square dances on my shag carpet.

And I still don’t even know if they’re lawn gnomes, or garden gnomes…!!