Madison's Mess

by Robyn Peterman

  And the smell… it was some serious stank.

  Growling, hissing and gnashing their fangs they aimed their firepower at the truck.

  “Can you see their nards?” Rick whispered while still smiling and waving at the irate Gnomes.

  Peering at the abominations, I squinted my eyes. They didn’t wear any clothes when in their Gnome form but honestly, they had so much fur they didn’t really need apparel. The only hairless part of a Gnome’s body was the face and hair might have been an improvement.

  “Umm… no. Can you?” I asked, squinting harder.

  “Sadly, yes,” he said with a gag. “Look for the small hairy pickle.”

  Again, I looked. “Like a Kosher dill or a midget sweet pickle?” I questioned still searching.

  “Midget sweet pickle,” Rick confirmed. “If you can find that, the miniscule nards are on either side. I did warn you they were itsy bitsy.”

  “No wonder they’re so pissed,” I said with a muffled laugh as I finally found something that resembled a fuzzy mini midget sweet pickle flanked by two eensy-weensy hairy peas. “These dudes really got screwed over in the junk department.”

  “Ya think?” Rick said with a chuckle.

  “Get out of the vehicle and put your hands in the air,” the Gnome in the front snarled, banging violently on the window with the butt of his enormous rifle.

  “Damn good thing bullets won’t kill us,” Rick muttered as he went to open the door.

  “True,” I said, reaching for my handle and then stopped. “But we have no clue if guns can kill Neville. If he really is half human, he could die easily.”

  “Fuck,” Rick muttered and closed his eyes for a second. “Madison, we have to play it safe.”

  My heart beat a rapid tattoo in my chest and my stomach clenched in terror. Safe wasn’t a word in my vocabulary. “Can we do that?” I asked, alarmed. I didn’t even know what that meant.

  “No choice,” he said, swiping the sweat from his forehead and shuddering. “Never done it, but there’s a first time for everything, baby. Main objective… get Neville out of here alive. If we can free the lesser gods and incarcerate Stew for his eventual de-peckering, great. If not, we’ll have to come back.”

  I nodded in agreement. “You got any more to the plan? Like how we’re gonna do it?”

  Rick glanced over and grinned. It was wildly inappropriate to get turned on at a time like this but I did. I had it bad for the Werewolf.

  “We’re gonna wing it.”

  “Roger that, captain. Let’s play it safe.”

  “May the gods be with us so we don’t blow anything up.”

  And then all hell broke loose.

  However, it wasn’t at all the hell we’d expected. At all.

  “Jack and Diane?” the biggest and ugliest Gnome squeaked as he began to hop up and down causing several trees to uproot and crash to the ground.

  “Oh my GODS!” another one shouted and then passed out in rabid excitement.

  Two others began to tremble and weep as they went for their cell phones and begged for selfies with us. It was freakin’ surreal. Poseidon had been correct about Gnomes loving their cooking shows. Luckily, we were no longer in the SUV because it was now just a crushed heap of metal under a massive cedar tree. I sent a silent thank you to Zeus that we hadn’t left Neville under the seat.

  For the next thirty minutes, we posed for pictures with five shrieking Gnomes. The one who’d passed out was going to be devastated if the hero worship of the others was anything to judge by. We were freakin’ rock stars. The one thing I was grateful for was that the bastard who’d tried to hit Kim wasn’t amongst them. And thankfully, Neville didn’t make a sound.

  “Sooooo, Jack and Diane?” Bart, the largest Gnome, gushed. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  “Well, Bart,” Rick said, slapping him on the back and sending him flying. “We’re scouting locations for our next episode.”

  Bart was thrilled to have been decked by Jack. He hopped right back up and knelt at Rick’s and my feet.

  “We would be honored, thrilled, delighted, and humbled if you’d like to use the compound as your next location,” Bart blabbered.

  “Where exactly are we?” I inquired with my megawatt TV smile turned up to the max.

  “You don’t know?” one called Tiny asked.

  “Umm… nope. We just looooove the area—very dark and umm… interestingly scented,” I said, glancing over at the backpack on Rick’s back to make sure it wasn’t moving. “And now that the network has canceled our show, we have to do everything ourselves.”

  “WHAT?” Bart screamed and began to throw a temper tantrum that would make a two year old proud. “They can’t cancel the show. We LOVE the show. We have it running repeatedly in the rec room of the Gnome recreation center. I’ve seen all ten episodes three hundred times apiece.”

  “Holy fuck,” Rick muttered under his breath. “Gonna be like taking candy from a baby.”

  “Don’t jinx us,” I whispered as I patted Bart on his hairy back while he kicked and screamed on the ground. “Maybe you guys can help us since you’re such big and hairy fans.”

  “Tell us what you want and need,” Tiny begged picking up Bart and dropkicking him into the woods so he could be closer to me. “Your wish is our command, O Great Diane.”

  The stench was almost debilitating, but the offer was pure gold.

  “How about a tour of the Palace so we can find the best place to shoot?” I suggested.

  “Done,” Bart yelled as he jogged back over and pummeled Tiny in retaliation for booting him like a rag doll. “Follow me.”

  “And me,” Tiny grunted as he dragged the still unconscious Gnome fan behind him.

  We followed them through a gate we couldn’t see and then the hell of the Gnome compound came into crystal clear and very heinous focus. As far as the eye could see, everything was rundown and in horrid disrepair—well, everything except the Palace. It was pristine.

  “What the hell?” Rick mumbled as he too took in the horrible living conditions the King made his subjects live in.

  It made the side of town Kim had been living in look like paradise.

  “This is so sad,” I whispered, again checking on Neville.

  He was as quiet as a mouse and hadn’t moved a muscle. Kim must be shitting her pants. I knew I would be.

  “May we carry your load?” Bart offered politely reaching for the backpack.

  “NO,” Rick shouted as Bart shrank back like a beaten puppy. Rick tilted his head to the side in confusion at Bart’s meek reaction. “I mean, thank you, Bart but no. I’m just fine. I’m carrying precious cargo and it can’t leave my body.”

  Bart nodded and grinned with relief, clearly happy that Rick wasn’t mad at him. “Apple pies flambé?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Possibly,” I told him as a plan began to hatch in my head. Even if we could just accomplish part of the mission while keeping Neville safe, that would be better than nothing. “We’re looking for someplace a little dark and scary for the next episode. You know, a seriously creepy area. Maybe a room with chains and cages… instruments of torture would be all kinds of awesome. I’m planning to juggle watermelons over an enormous vat of bubbling water filled with sharks while Rick throws daggers and slices the watermelon while it’s in the air.”

  “Who’s Rick?” Tiny asked, confused.

  Shitshitshit.

  “Rick’s my middle name. On TV I go by Jack. Diane here likes to call me Rick and my friends calls me Jack Rick with the enormous dick,” Rick said, giving me a raised yet victorious eyebrow.

  I was speechless. It took everything I had not to laugh. Rick had just bailed my ass out of what could have been a deadly mess, but the enormous dick part was almost too much. True, but too much.

  “We would be honored to call you Jack Rick with the enormous dick,” Bart said, bowing low to my insane Werewolf.

  “Fine by me, boys,” Rick said with a misch
ievous grin pulling at his mouth. “And Diane’s middle name is Madison. On TV she goes by Diane. I like to call her Madison. However,” he stated, enjoying himself far too much. “Her friends like to call her Madison Diane with the bootylicious can.”

  If I wasn’t playing it safe, I would have stabbed the wolf in the ass—five times. However, I had to be content with just rolling my eyes.

  “Thank you, Rick the dick,” I said sweetly with a smile. That moniker would stick.

  “My pleasure,” he replied, grinning wide. “And that’s Jack Rick with the enormous dick.”

  “Riiiight. My bad, Enormous Dick.”

  I supposed this was as dangerous as we were going to get. At least it was funny.

  “May we call you Madison Diane with the bootylicious can?” Tiny asked shyly.

  I swallowed hard so I didn’t punch the Gnome in the head or laugh. “Of course,” I choked out. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, skipping in a circle.

  Others joined him, and in a matter of minutes we were surrounded by at least fifty skipping Gnomes. What in the Chicken of the Sea was happening here? Gnomes weren’t supposed to skip and be sweet. They were evil bastards who belonged in Hades and sent body parts of lesser gods to Poseidon.

  “I’m a little confused,” Rick said, through barely moving lips as he waved to the ecstatic crowd.

  “I’m a lot confused,” I replied, doing my best pageant wave. “These people are pathetic. They’re not killers.”

  “Agreed,” he said, scratching his head.

  “Not all Gnomes bad,” a little voice whispered. “Only ones with King. Most Gnomes poor and sad. Me daddy tell me so.”

  My head snapped to the backpack and then back to the prancing Gnomes. Thank the gods, no one seemed to hear Neville.

  “Shhhh,” I hissed, keeping my smile plastered on my face. “Did you hear that?” I asked Rick. He nodded and made a sour face.

  “What?” I looked around for trouble, but saw none. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. However, Neville either peed or drooled.”

  Biting back my grin, I felt only a little bit bad that Jack Rick with the enormous dick was the one wearing the backpack. The Gnomes had started to sing for us. I had a feeling my ears might bleed, but thought it would be rude to slap my ears over them. My mom taught me it was far easier to be nice than mean. Plus, I could regenerate my eardrums in a hot second.

  The singing—or heinous noise to be more accurate—made it easier for Rick and me to communicate.

  “Going out on a limb here,” Rick said softly. “But I think most of the Gnomes here are victims—not evil.”

  “Agreed,” I said, wincing at a particularly high note Bart let rip. “When you battled the Gnomes, did they behave like this?”

  “Nope. They didn’t look like these freaks either—much bigger. Much uglier. Much meaner.”

  “Mmmkay,” I said, scanning the bombed out looking village that surrounded the Palace. “How about we stick with the nice ones, get to the lesser gods and then let Poseidon deal with Stew the Gnome bastard King?” I suggested.

  “On any other day I would disagree,” Rick whispered. “However, since my back has been used as a potty and I’d like to take a shower, I’m gonna go with your safe plan.”

  I giggled and he grinned. He was going to be a great daddy someday.

  “So I take it you think the lesser gods are in a dungeon?” he asked.

  “Well, since everything here is like a bad flippin’ fairy tale, I’m going with a yes,” I told him.

  “If I have to listen to any more Gnome tunes, I might pee my pants like our little alien buddy did. You ready to tour the bowels of the Palace?”

  “Born ready, Rick the dick,” I said, giving him a thumbs up.

  “Umm… you left part of my name out,” he reminded me.

  “Nope. I didn’t.”

  Flouncing ahead of my Werewolf before he could argue the point further, I took Bart’s hand and headed toward the Palace. Bart was so excited by my gesture, he cried. The Gnome cried big huge tears that smelled a little like three-day-old garbage left in the sun but I simply held my breath and smiled.

  I was a Mermaid. I could hold my breath for a week. I giggled as I watched Rick try not to heave as Tiny put a hairy arm around his shoulder and marched him up the path.

  While we might be playing it safe, it was anything but safe for our olfactory senses…

  14

  Rick

  “Is something wrong, gentlemen?” I asked our large hairy tour guides as they exchanged hushed words and worried glances.

  “No,” Bart said with a forced laugh that I was sure was laced with terror. “Nothing at all, Jack Rick with the enormous dick. Nothing at all, my friend.”

  As soon as we’d hit the manicured main path that led to the Palace, all fifty Gnomes who had been happily trailing us, scattered and disappeared—all but Bart and Tiny. Madison’s eyes had narrowed for a moment as we watched the crowd hustle away in abject fear.

  “Something is very fishy in Gnome land,” she whispered as we followed an uncomfortable Bart and a shaky Tiny.

  “Agreed.” I adjusted the backpack full of Neville on my very wet back. “Do not take a crap,” I hissed quietly over my shoulder. “If you have to poop, you’d better hold it. You feel me?”

  The little alien dude moved around just a little and giggled softly.

  I took that as a yes. It was one thing to be peed on. It was another thing entirely to walk around smelling like shit when it wasn’t your fault. However, the Gnomes smelled liked baked ass so a Neville dump probably wouldn’t even be noticed.

  Where the town was in squalor, the grounds of the Palace were anything but. In the distance, I spotted a crew of emaciated Gnomes tending to the immaculate flowerbeds and the shrubs. The Gnomes seemed broken and hopeless. The more I saw—the angrier I got.

  “Excuse me, Tiny? Bart?” Madison said as politely as ever. “Why are we going around to the back of the Palace and not through the front door?”

  Both Gnomes froze and then pulled us under a weeping Mulberry tree to hide from prying eyes. Tiny was wringing his huge hands and Bart was systematically yanking strands of wiry hair out of his right elbow. It looked seriously painful.

  “Are you not supposed to be in the Palace?” Madison asked, gently stopping Bart from picking his elbow bald.

  “Not exactly,” Tiny hedged, making no eye contact whatsoever. “We just like to use a different entrance. Much easier access to the area that would be appropriate for your show.”

  “I see,” I said, not wanting to beat around the bush. I had no clue how soon Neville would need to take a leak again. This show needed to get on the road. “So if we went up to the front door and knocked, that would be a problem?”

  Bart went positively ashen and Tiny almost fainted. That pretty much answered the question.

  “You wouldn’t want to do that Jack Rick with the enormous dick,” Bart choked out. “Nonononononono, not smart.”

  “Because?” Madison pressed.

  “Well, we’re very forward thinking even though we’ve never been off the compound,” Tiny explained.

  “Whoa dude,” I said, squinting at him. “You’ve never been off this property? How old are you?”

  “Two hundred,” Tiny told us. “Bart is a hundred and seven. And no one has ever been off the compound. It’s forbidden.”

  Attacking his left elbow now, Bart joined the bizarre and unbelievable conversation. “That’s not exactly true. There are those who are allowed off the compound, but not us.”

  “The Gnomes we’ve met so far,” Madison said, again pulling Bart’s hand off his elbow. “Have any of them left the compound?”

  “Ohhhhhhh no.” Tiny shook his head so hard I thought his brains might fall out of his ears. “We’re the Undesirables. We are prohibited from contact with the rest of the world. We are unworthy. Lower than low. Scum of the earth.” />
  “Says who?” I ground out through clenched teeth.

  “The King,” Bart said reverently, bowing his head.

  Madison was pissed and her fingers began to spark. Quickly shoving them into her pockets, she pressed for more. “So who is allowed off the compound?”

  Tiny peeked through the leaves that surrounded us to make sure he wouldn’t be heard. “The King’s army. One hundred of the bravest and most important Gnomes in existence. They are free to come and go as they please.”

  I could barely stop myself from growling. This was fucked up. So the only Gnomes I’d ever come into contact with were in the King’s army. Clearly, they were the same fuckers that had been forcing Kim to pay for the little pee alien’s existence.

  “Jack Rick with the enormous dick and Madison Diane with the bootylicious can, we must hurry before we’re noticed,” Bart said, also peeking through the leaves.

  “Why are you doing this for us?” I asked. “If you could be punished for being in the castle, why are you risking it?”

  Bart and Tiny smiled. The first real smile I’d seen. It was alarmingly unattractive but pretty damned nice at the same time.

  “You are our heroes,” Bart said as his beady eyes filled with smelly and heartfelt tears. “You and Madison Diane with the bootylicious can have saved us. Watching your bravery and the way you almost decapitate each other while cooking delicious food has made our lives worth living.”

  “Cooking shows are the only TV we are permitted,” Tiny added. “I’m very fond of Martha Stewart and Snoop Dog, but Bitchin’ in the Kitchen’ changed my life for the better. The way you blew up half the studio and then did the breakdancing number on the hot coals while roasting marshmallows impaled on your fingers still gives me chills. I just can’t believe…”

  “Can’t believe what?” I asked, preening a bit about his love of the breakdancing episode. It was my idea. However, Madison came up with the hot coals and marshmallow part. She was fucking brilliant. Together we were unstoppable.

  Tiny lowered his voice so much we had to lean in.