Wanted: Garden Gnome Thief

In September of 2007, some fucktard with nothing better to do stole my garden gnome from my frontyard and began sending me periodic messages chronicling the global adventure he purportedly embarked upon before finally returning to my doorstep 6 months later, a dishonarable discharge citing illicit homosexual behavior from the army tucked under his arm. The following is a compilation of the letters I received during that time encapsulating the entire sordid saga. Anyone with any information pertinent to the prosecution of the search for the perpetrator of this crime's identity are encouraged to email me.

August 28, 2007 -

Dear Reverend Bob,

As I'm sure you've already noticed, I have vacated my post in your garden for new horizons. I am sorry for this dereliction, but I do hope you understand and pray there are no hard feelings.

You see, not that standing around that neglected patch of crab grass and litter you call a garden every day being slowly devoured by weeds and rubbish hasn't been terribly fulfilling, but lately I've become overwhelmed with a desire to go out and see the world.

From the accompanying picture you can see that the first stop in my travels has been San Francisco. Wonderful city. I've spent four fabulous days here, but am now off. Where to? Again I apologize, but for my own peace of mind must abstain from saying lest you should assemble a search party. Rest assured however that I am safe, and for once truly happy.

Your's Humbly,
Donald Q. Gnome

September 26, 2007 -

Dear Reverend Bob,

Greetings from Las Vegas, where so far the lore of glamour and excitement for which the town has been associated continues to elude your (hopefully still) favorite ceramic garden supervisor. Sadly, since hitchhiking our way here four days ago, my new friend Trish and I have known nothing but hardship as our naive optimism has been dashed by a combination of bad luck and harsh reality. Arriving without a penny to our name, Trish hatched an idea of turning a twenty dollar bill acquired through unknown means (she didn't say, and I was afraid to ask) into a small fortune that proved ill-fated as I watched our nest egg disappear with one spin of the roulette wheel through splayed fingers from my position nestled in a potted plant situated between a retired used car dealer vapidly depositing his life savings into a slot machine a quarter at a time and a forty dollar hooker guzzling appletinis.

Though I am grateful my inorganic composition makes me immune to hunger, I must confess I have grown anxious over what the future holds as Trish has fallen silent, possibly contemplating another plot I fear might find me becoming part of the landscape of the garden of some family of obese Mormons in the blighted suburbs of Salt Lake City in exchange for a ticket granting access to gorge at the troughs of one of the many all-you-can-eat buffets around town by morning.

Still Undaunted,
Donald Q. Gnome

Stolen Garden Gnome Update -

December 5, 2007 -

Dear Rev. Bob,

Greetings from...

Egypt!

Yes, the glitz and glamor of Las Vegas was fine and good for a couple of days, but after five, it got really old. Especially considering the fact that there is in actuality a lot more fat, buffet fed, dead-eyed chain smoking retired telephone operators squandering their meager pensions down the greedy maw of a slot machine one quarter at a time within dying distance of drunken used car dealers haggling with prostitutes than glitz and glamor anyway. And all the phony facades and recreations of the world's most venerable places were sort of cute, but really they just fed my desire to see the real things in all of their glory, not as cheap facades on the boardwalk of some tacky Disneyland for the physically mature yet mentally and spiritually arrested. Balls!

So yes, given the options the various hotels along the strip brought to mind - Paris, New York, Venice, Egypt, pirate ships or outer space, I went with the oldest and most spiritual. Fuck it's hot though. And me without sweat glands.

Donald

Stolen Gnome Update:

February 5, 2008 -

Bob,

Last week, while meditating near the Pyramid of Khufu at Giza, I came to the decision that it was high time I give something back to my adoptive country for all she's done and provided for me. As you can probably tell, this epiphany has led me to Iraq, where, to my mild surprise, the Army accepted my offer of service on the spot and assigned me to an infantry platoon near Karbala.

Now I know your position on the war differs from my own, but I hope you don't begrudge me my chosen course. Although I concede that the objectives and means chosen to achieve them in this war are foggier than others, I am firm in my conviction that I am doing the right thing, and that however small my contribution, the virtues of freedom and democracy are being served.

Have to go now, it's scorpion death match night.

Please don't worry,

Donald

My Gnome is Home, a Homo

February 12, 2008 - As you can see from the headline, my wayward garden gnome (apparently named) Donald has come home. Perched upon my doorstep, the little bastard held in the crook of his arm a dishonorable discharge notice from the Army listing "Illicit Homosexual Activity" as the cause of his release, but I know this to be utter bullshit. Not just because I've never heard of an asexual lawn decoration being gay before, or would have something against my ceramic garden supervisor taking it up the rear, but because I know for a fact that the military is so desperate for cannon fodder these days that you could get caught blowing a four star general's half-retarded brother in the shithouse and not get sent home from Iraq. So nice try guys.