Thomas woke up at the Bucklins' house to the sound of rapping on the bedroom door.
“Are you awake inside there Thomas!?” Charlie had obviously had more sleep despite heading to bed later than Thomas.
“I am now,” Thomas said feverishly. He sat up and reached across his bedside table to grab his glasses before he realized he was already wearing them.
“Well come on then!” Charlie exclaimed loudly.
As Thomas got up he could hear Charlie humming the national anthem of Ireland surprisingly well. “Why are you doing that?” he said as Charlie stopped. “You’ve got to show your pride Thomas, even if it is a rainy day.” They both headed down the staircase and were greeted by loud music followed by a piercing noise coming from the living room. As they both ran to see what was causing the ruckus a spoonful of Irish stew came soaring towards them. Thomas knelt just in time but Charlie wasn’t so lucky as the stew dripped to the floor, the liquid reminder of what had just happened clung to Charlie’s face.
“Bloody Gnomes!” he shouted furiously. “Get out of my house!”
The sound of more objects being broken and a loud “ouch!” echoed. Thomas stood back up to observe the peculiar Gnomes through the window nearby as Charlie wiped the stew stain off his face with a handkerchief. They looked like ordinary Garden Gnomes with the minor exception that they were moving, and that one of them was leading the others outside onto the damp grass.
“I still don’t know why me dad doesn’t do something to repel them from coming inside.” As they neared the area where the Garden Gnomes had been partying Mr. Bucklin came downstairs.
“Charlie have you seen your brother William… what happened in here? This place is a mess!”
“It was the Garden Gnomes again dad, Thomas and I caught them partying and they made this mess before they left….”
As Thomas began to look around him he noticed a pair of now broken speakers, which caused the piercing sound they had heard earlier. The floor was scattered with tiny mud prints and it seemed, that behind the red sofa that lay in front of the tele the Bucklins' had, one of the Garden Gnomes was sleeping soundly.
“Charlie? I think they’ve forgotten one their friends.” Mr. Bucklin and Charlie turned to see the Garden Gnome Thomas was talking about.
“Oh my…. This isn’t good.” Charlie peered at his dad.
“We can just wake him up can’t we?” Charlie muttered obviously still upset about the earlier incident.
Mr. Bucklin carefully walked towards the sofa and picked up the Garden Gnome, holding it like a newborn baby. “Charlie, can you open the door for me.”
"I'll do it," Thomas interrupted. He was the closest to the door and as he reached for the handle and pushed it open he was surprised to see that the Garden Gnomes had wasted no time leaving and had just charged through the bottom part of the door that now had a chunk missing.
“We have to get this Gnome outside now otherwise the others will come back looking for him and this time they might not be so, tolerable, of leaving most of our home intact.”
After they had placed the Gnome outside with a bottle of water to recover after he had woken up they repaired the door and cleaned up the mess the other Gnomes had made. Noon was approaching and the promise of a trip to Gimico’s Travel hung in Thomas’s mind. William had soon emerged later on after they had cleaned up and swore he needed a new clock.
“Oh! Blame the clock eh!” Charlie mocked laughing.
“Very funny but if I recall from what you told me earlier I do believe I missed being hit in the face with a spoonful of Irish Stew!”
“Enough boys,” Mr. Bucklin grumbled as he busily rifled through the local paper sitting comfortably. Mrs. Bucklin on the other hand was busily complaining about the Gnome Rights movement.
"...And they want more freedom, I'll show the slow ones some more freedom...."
As Thomas and Charlie sat down to eat lunch Charlie whispered over his mum’s complaints, “It’s alright Thomas, she just fainted before we cleaned up the mess! It shouldn’t last too long.” “I know, I was there!” He smiled back, and with that they began to devour their lunch hoping that the taste of it all would last longer than Mrs. Bucklin's tantrum.
