It was all going peacefully, life.
Or so the gnomes thought.
Then one day the gnome king announced
that gnomes were a fragile species,
and garden and ornamental, bearded and not,
should wear diving helmets for protection until further notice.
Gnome kind grumbled and groaned,
and some flatly refused to adapt their style –
why cover up their signature ruddy cheeks and bright caps that had remained unchanged throughout the ages?
Then the kids playing in the school field across the road
kicked their football too high,
which swiftly decapitated an unprotected gnome
in the final arc of its descent.
The other gnomes were sad, but it was a chance in…well, however many gnomes their were!
There was more probability that their paint would flake and smiles crack
before a tragedy like that would occur again.
But they didn’t account for the glorious sun,
which brought footballs raining down ten a day
leaving only those gnomes with helmets on
safe from the barrage.