[Critique Group 2] leonards sub for May and a reminder

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

TTomorrow  the  submissions for May are due. 
My entree is below:

Septic Gnomes 




 


Sitting on my porch, overlooking the garden, I contemplatedhow beautiful the yard looked.  The cabbageswere better than ever I could remember them. Their leaves, wide and flawless,were beginning to build their centers. But I also experienced sadness, becausethey might never be allowed to mature. You see, the land on which they wereplanted was doomed to be dug up and decimated. All because the toilets wouldn’tflush properly. It seems that my 43-year-old septic system is clogged and needsto be renovated.



 I had the dualfeelings of joy and despair. Two emotions opposite to each other. Perhaps theywere the tension which provided the impetus that caused me to suddenly becomeaware of a small gnome -like creature sitting next to me.



“Oh!  I didn’t realizeyou were there,” I exclaimed in shocked surprise.



“Yes, I’m here. Its good of you to recognize me. That rarelyhappens. Usually, I just sit there commiserating with someone who isn’t even awareof my presence.”



“Who are you? What are you?” I stammered.



I was quite taken aback by his sudden appearance. He wasnothing I had ever seen before; only one foot tall, dressed in drab brown garband a hat that one imagines when one imagines what a gnome might wear.



“You’re surprised to see a fellow like me sitting next toyou.  Isn’t that so? That’s often thereaction I get. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it. You’ll either run offinto the house and have a drink, or we can have a chat. A boring chat. Butperhaps you might learn a thing or two. I won’t, because it will be just thesame old discussion I always have with humans. I guess it’s my lot in life, tosit here and have to explain myself every time I’m called upon.”



“But I didn’t call you.” This fellow, whoever he was, wastedno time in being annoying.



“Yes, you did. You called me,” he insisted.



“I don’t know what you are talking about. I never said aword. I was just sitting here minding my own business when you suddenly poppedin, or something.”



“Ah, but what were you thinking and feeling? Answer thatlittle question.”



“As I said, I was here minding my own business, thinking howbeautiful the garden was and how sad it was that my cabbages might have to bedug up before they could reach maturity. I wasn’t thinking at all aboutsummoning a garden gnome.”



“I’m not a garden gnome. Sometimes I wish I was.  But I’m not, I am not, I’m certainly not agarden gnome,” he insisted in a most belligerent way.



“I don’t know a thing about garden gnomes or whatever kindof gnome you happen to be, if you are any kind of gnome, fairy or what haveyou.”



“Thank you, I’m definitely not a fairy. Although, I havenothing against faries.  What kind ofbigot are you anyway?”



“I’m not a bigot. I… Oh, never mind.”



“Just like a human. You call me to have a discussion and endup rejecting me.”



This conversation we were having was deteriorating by thesecond. I decided to indulge him. “Look, I’m sorry. Somehow, we got off on thewrong foot. Let’s start over again.  Whatkind of creature are you?”



“I’m a septic gnome. “



“What?”



“What’s the matter? Do you have trouble hearing? I’m aseptic gnome. Is there anything wrong with that?”



It occurred to me that having an acerbic personality for aseptic gnome might be one of their traits, and that I shouldn’t respond to himin kind. Otherwise, this discussion wasn’t going anywhere.  So, I continued to humor him.



“Oh,” I said. “And what are some of the things that septicgnomes do?”



“You mean when we are not trying to educate stupid peoplelike you?”



I gritted my teeth and then replied in the most pleasant wayI could, “Yes.”



“I live in your septic system.”



“You live in my septic system!?”



“Don’t act so disgusted. You’re just like every other human.That disgusts you, doesn’t it?”



“Ah… I, I suppose people have a right to live where theywant to,” I said, not being able to think of anything better.



“But it disgusts you, right?”



“Well, yes,” I relented. “But that’s because I don’t knowthe good part of that story,” I said, lamely.



“Nice try.”



“Ah, how many of you are there down there?” I asked.



“As many as possible. It isn’t enough. It doesn’t seem credible to you. I know that because youare a simple-minded human who doesn’t think in five dimensions.  We can get thousands, even millions, of usdown there. It’s spacious. But in the end, it isn’t enough. The system breaksdown.  We have to go elsewhere.”



“Elsewhere?” I asked, incredulously. 



“There you go again. You can’t imagine us wanting to goelsewhere other than your private sewer. We love living in a well-balancedsystem.  But eventually, the best-balancedsystem can’t persist for ever. Especially if you don’t follow simple rules,that one would think you could manage with those big fat brains perched on topof your shoulders. You know, like emptying out your tank every seven years, notflushing Kleenex, or your wife’s Kotex, or the bills you don’t want to pay.”



“I’ve never flushed down bills,” I protested.



“How about Kotex?” he asked.



“You’ll have to ask my wife.”



“I wouldn’t dare,” he said.



“What do you do down there besides produce other septicgnomes?” I asked.



“We TRY to keep it balanced. You don’t make it easy We havespecialists of every kind. We have more specialists than you can name. Iwouldn’t venture to describe how many specialists there are. Those fat headsyou have would explode.”



I sat there dazed.



“Looks like I already over-burdened your measly intellect.Your scientists would call us the septic biomes. That’s because that’s the bestthey can do. Do I look like a biome to you?”



“I don’t know what a biome looks like,” I complained.



“Exactly my point, dummy.”



“Will they have to build a new drain field?!  I asked.



“How should I know? I just live here.”



Having said that, he disappeared.



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