The Intervention

My Bruce Bochy gnome figurine is cross eyed and looks eerily like Doug Benson.  I hadn’t noticed before but as I was looking around the room, waiting for my mind to land on a topic to write about, I made eye contact with Bruce the gnome.  More accurately, I tried to make eye contact with Bruce the gnome but his cross eyed-ness is making it very difficult.  As I tried to stare him down, it became more and more obvious to me that he was trying to hide something.  I’m sure the cross eyed look is a facade, he’s definitely hiding something.  Is it his shame that he isn’t a full fledged bobble head?  Is he embezzling from me?  Now I’m sure he’s hiding something.

I didn’t set out to write about Bruce the gnome, it’s just that now that I have spent some time with him, I don’t trust him.  Unfortunately, I can’t use the time old phrase “I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him” because I am pretty sure that I can throw Bruce the gnome a good distance.  Just because I can throw him far doesn’t mean I should trust him.  Throwing distance is not a good judge of trustworthiness.  Remember that gentle reader.

I don’t think Bruce the gnome is evil, per se, but he does have demons.  Bruce the gnome has howled at the moon on more than one occasion, if you know what I mean, and he definitely has gnome skeletons in his closet.  What could Bruce the gnome be hiding?  I’ve asked Bruce the gnome a few times, in passing, what he has been up to.  He hasn’t ever given me the courtesy of a reply.  Bruce the gnome is new to the house so I figured he was just shy, getting used to his new surroundings … but now, I’m not so sure.  Bruce the gnome doesn’t really have any friends, kind of a loner, quiet, keeps to himself.  Crap, I just described 80% of the mass murderers who have existed.  Maybe I’ve misread Bruce the gnome, another common pattern with mas murderers.  How many times have you read after a mass murder about neighbors commenting on how quiet and pleasant the mass murderer was? I can see it now, after Bruce the gnome loses it and goes on a bobble head murder spree, police interview his closest neighbor, Randy Winn the bobble head.

Bobble Head police: “Can you tell us anything about your neighbor, Bruce the gnome?”

Randy Winn bobble head: “Not really, he was quiet, kept to himself, kind of cross-eyed, didn’t make much eye contact.  Nice neighbor.”

Is that what Bruce the gnome is hiding?  That he’s a soon to be a mass bobble head murderer?  Is the pure fact that his head doesn’t move while all the other sports figurines heads shake uncontrollably enough for him to have built up envious hatred for his neighbors over his short tenure in my house?  Have the other bobble heads shunned Bruce the gnome because of his fixed noggin adding fuel to Bruce the gnome’s envious hatred?  I need to talk to Bruce the gnome quickly before things escalate.

What do you say to someone who is on the path that ends in a bobble head killing spree?  I’ve wracked my brain for an answer, and I think I’ve come up with the words I need to bring Bruce the gnome back into the world of good.  I pull him aside and let him know that I know how he is feeling and that he isn’t alone in the room and, when the darkness comes, just stop and ask yourself, WWRD?  What Would Rudolph Do?  Rudolph, because of his nose, was shunned and could have quite easily gone down the same path as Bruce the gnome is heading, except murdering claymation figurines.  Rudolph didn’t, though, Rudolph took some time at a retreat on the Isle of Misfit Toys to learn more about his self, more importantly, to learn to love himself for who he is, a red nosed reindeer.  I then point out that once Rudolph could love himself then Rudolph could start loving others and eventually save Christmas.  I’d tell Bruce the gnome that he needs to love himself for who he is, a fixed head sports figurine and when he can love himself, he can start to love others.  And Bruce the gnome looked at me with his cross eyes and start to weep because he knew that I knew and that I cared and that’s all Bruce the gnome ever wanted, someone to care for him in his life.  Bruce the gnome and I hug it out and Bruce the gnome would eventually go out and get his first tattoo on the inside of his immobile little wrist … WWRD.


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