Larry loved his garden gnomes in the middle of each night in a frilly nightdress with matching slippers in a way sure to set off his neighbour’s motion-sensor lights. Every night he would select a lucky gnome to sit on. Sometimes two. And three on the weekends. He would wave his arms about while zigzagging across the garden in a series of clumsy leaps to ensure all lights were on and it was as bright as it would be at noon on a cloudless day close to midsummer.
He hoped his neighbours were watching. This was how Larry made his living while they went to their hateful office jobs and put second mortgages on their homes held together with motion sensor flood lights. He owned his house outright.
He knew his fans watched. Without them he would still be living in his mother’s basement with the smell of festering decay for company. Mould spores clung to his gnomes in those conditions. He streamed his nocturnal activities to an audience of millions in all the world’s time zones for large sums of money and even larger sexual gratification.
He smothered the tips of all the gnomes’ hats in Vaseline every morning at six (this too was streamed online but didn’t attract all that many viewers). He liked the jelly to absorb sunlight during the day so it was warm to sit on in the middle of the night. No one wanted to watch him jump because of an anal chill – not even his neighbours.
He knew he needed to up his show to compete with Octopus Lady. Goat Man showed signs of catching up in the ratings as well. That was a troublesome thought. Goat Man wasn’t anything special, unlike Larry and his garden gnomes. He didn’t know what he could do.
More than anything he wanted his garden gnomes to breathe in the air and blood to pump through little veins to an oversized brain. They would offer advice on stealing viewers from Octopus Lady and Goat Man and how to go about it. Years of their hats meeting with his hairy anus made them super-smart. They would be only too happy to oblige – this was their online show too.
If Larry’s gnomes came to life Octopus Lady and Goat Man would be so slack-jawed with awe they wouldn’t be able to stream anything other than flies entering their open mouths and lying eggs on their tongues. Viewers would turn off and count the hours until Larry was streaming a new night’s garden gnome activities.
In the early hours Larry sighed and switched off the webcam after a night of violating his anus and went to bed just as he did every morning. His arse was so stretched after years of sitting on gnomes he could hardly feel it anymore. He was worried he might start leaking butt-juice into his nightdress. He needed something new both for himself and the online audience.
He crawled into his bed still in the same nightie he wore for his show. He kicked the slippers under the wooden frame to collect dust bunnies with the others. He pulled the custom-made blankets over his head and drifted off. The last things he saw before closing his eyes each morning were the gnomes that decorated his duvet cover and pillow. He has yet to save up enough money for the matching curtains but he planned to – if only he could stop adding to his gnome family and collection of lawn ornaments.
 
Larry loved his garden gnomes in the middle of each night in a frilly nightdress with matching slippers in a way sure to set off his neighbour’s motion-sensor lights. Every night he would select a lucky gnome to sit on. Sometimes two. And three on the weekends. He would wave his arms about while zigzagging across the garden in a series of clumsy leaps to ensure all lights were on and it was as bright as it would be at noon on a cloudless day close to midsummer.
He hoped his neighbours were watching. This was how Larry made his living while they went to their hateful office jobs and put second mortgages on their homes held together with motion sensor flood lights. He owned his house outright.
He knew his fans watched. Without them he would still be living in his mother’s basement with the smell of festering decay for company. Mould spores clung to his gnomes in those conditions. He streamed his nocturnal activities to an audience of millions in all the world’s time zones for large sums of money and even larger sexual gratification.
He smothered the tips of all the gnomes’ hats in Vaseline every morning at six (this too was streamed online but didn’t attract all that many viewers). He liked the jelly to absorb sunlight during the day so it was warm to sit on in the middle of the night. No one wanted to watch him jump because of an anal chill – not even his neighbours.
He knew he needed to up his show to compete with Octopus Lady. Goat Man showed signs of catching up in the ratings as well. That was a troublesome thought. Goat Man wasn’t anything special, unlike Larry and his garden gnomes. He didn’t know what he could do.
More than anything he wanted his garden gnomes to breathe in the air and blood to pump through little veins to an oversized brain. They would offer advice on stealing viewers from Octopus Lady and Goat Man and how to go about it. Years of their hats meeting with his hairy anus made them super-smart. They would be only too happy to oblige – this was their online show too.
If Larry’s gnomes came to life Octopus Lady and Goat Man would be so slack-jawed with awe they wouldn’t be able to stream anything other than flies entering their open mouths and lying eggs on their tongues. Viewers would turn off and count the hours until Larry was streaming a new night’s garden gnome activities.
In the early hours Larry sighed and switched off the webcam after a night of violating his anus and went to bed just as he did every morning. His arse was so stretched after years of sitting on gnomes he could hardly feel it anymore. He was worried he might start leaking butt-juice into his nightdress. He needed something new both for himself and the online audience.
He crawled into his bed still in the same nightie he wore for his show. He kicked the slippers under the wooden frame to collect dust bunnies with the others. He pulled the custom-made blankets over his head and drifted off. The last things he saw before closing his eyes each morning were the gnomes that decorated his duvet cover and pillow. He has yet to save up enough money for the matching curtains but he planned to – if only he could stop adding to his gnome family and collection of lawn ornaments.

To read the rest, head on over to godless and pick up your copy for 50 cents.