The Rock People
Down in the back garden, Wilber had put some of his painted rocks. He paints them up for sale, but his better pieces he keeps for himself. He says that they’re like scarecrows and keep the caterpillars and gnomes at bay.
He’s fixated with gnomes ever since his mom read him a fairy story about them years before. Of course rationally I think he knows they don’t exist, but deep down inside …
Last week he told me the gnomes had uprooted a few geraniums to make space for one of their hidey holes. That’s why he put the stones out to scare them off. I imagined that it was probably a gopher or a rabbit and those stones, though making the garden more interesting, were wasted.
He invited me to stay out with him one evening to guard the garden. It’d seemed like it might be fun to sit under the moon light with Wilber, so I said I’d come along.
It was around mid-night when we saw some tiny lights out near the plants. Fireflies I said to myself, except firefly season had long since passed. Then the rocks began to move!
“Collaborationists!” Wilber hissed.
He was a bit hasty, for the rocks with the mouths began to shout profanities and the eye shot out a blue laser beam type light. There, not a few feet away, were some scraggy little creatures dressed in mouse fur robes. I tell you, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The creatures took flight and the rocks were just looked like painted rocks again.
“Well that’s more like it.” Wilber sighed in contentment. Then he put his arm around my shoulders and began to kiss me.
“Not here Wilber.” I said, “Not in front of the rock people.”