I always wondered what they ate.

When I was very young, I truly believed that there were people living in the television whose sole purpose in life was to entertain me. Don’t misunderstand me, I knew cartoons weren’t real. I just thought that the people in the TV could draw really, really fast.

So fast that I never saw their hands, no matter how hard I squinted.

For a while I wouldn’t even turn off the TV in the middle of a show for fear of accidentally killing one of the TV gnomes who lived inside it. Once, I even watched a whole episode of Bonanza desperately doing the pee-pee dance, scared to death that if I turned the TV off, or even walked away, one of the poor miniature horsies would die. I wouldn’t even change the channel unless there weren’t any ‘real’ people on the screen, just in case they got caught in the dial.

Yeah, dial. Remember those? No? Smart-alecky whippersnapper.

Anywaste, one day, I was watching some stupid show when one of the people turned directly to the camera and said something along the lines of, “You can’t hide from us!” I think it was a detective drama and the character was supposed to be talking to the suspect, but I swear to you I actually believed he was talking to me.

And I was frightened out of my mind.

The TV gnomes were watching me! They knew everything I did! They could tell my mom that I had hidden my brother’s favorite toy in the toilet’s water tank! I’d be in trouble, big trouble, and the TV gnomes would probably just laugh at me when I wasn’t allowed to watch them for a week. They’d probably even be happy to have a week off. They could go on a vacation, or something. Get out and see the… world…

Oh. My. God.

What if the TV gnomes could get OUT of the TV whenever they wanted?! They could be sneaking around the house at night trying to find where my mother hid the knives so they could kill us! Oh no! What was I going to do?! I knew, even at such a young age, that no one else would believe me because the kids on TV were never believed until it was too late.

And I didn’t want it to be too late.

So that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I set a TV Gnome trap. I don’t remember the actual mechanics of it, but I do recall it involving Tinker Toys, a very large Tonka dump truck, marbles and peanut butter. Yeah, peanut butter. I don’t know how I knew, but somehow I did know that the TV gnomes just adored peanut butter. But, because I liked chunky Skippy peanut butter, I was using the crappy creamy Jiffy that we kept in the house for peanut butter emergencies.

What? Yeah, like you never had a peanut butter crisis as a kid.

Well, I set my trap and went back to bed. I had been careful not to go anywhere near the living room as a safety precaution so as not to give away my plans to the TV gnomes, and I was sure I had succeeded in keeping them in the dark. And even though I knew my trap was perfect, I just couldn’t fall asleep. I kept going over my plans in my head, sure that I hadn’t made any mistakes, but also positive that there was something I had forgotten. If only I could remember what it was. If only I could think of the thing I had forgotten about. If only I could stop that annoying licking sound so I could think of the stupid thing I…

Oh.

Quietly getting out of bed, I went to the hallway where I had set my perfect TV gnome trap and found it in shambles as Sam, our family dog, licked up the lovely, super-delicious peanut butter I had been using as bait for the TV gnomes. As she realized she was being watched she stopped her licking and shamefacedly looked up at me with her eyes, but without lifting her head from the floor. Mustering all the authority I had in my tiny four-year-old body I put my hands on my hips and frowned.

“What are you doing?”
[shameful look]
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
[sad look of confusion]
“You’ve ruined my TV gnome trap! Now they’re free to get me!”
[hanging head of shame]
“What am I going to do now?”
[ears perk]
“What? You think you know?”
[single wag of tail]
“Huh? You’re going to protect me?”
[head up, tail high]
“But they’re clever, the TV gnomes. Are you sure you can protect me?”
[wagging tail]
“Ok. But, and it’s not that I’m scared or anything, but you’ll have to sleep in my room, ok?”
[spastically happy tail]
“Right. We’ll have to be very quiet. You’re not allowed in there and if FishMan hears you he’ll tell mom and we’ll get in trouble, so don’t make any noise, ok?”
[orgasmic tail wagging]
“Oh, and if the TV gnomes get in the room, you have to protect me, but you can let them eat FishMan, ok?”
[Sam goes into convulsions and sees a tunnel and a white light]
“You’re such a good dog.”
[joy-induced heart attack, hamburger-frisbees and fire hydrants await in heaven]

And that is when I stopped being afraid of the TV gnomes.

The following story, contained within the extended entry portion of this post, was written in 2002 but deserves to be remembered.
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I was like a god, once.

Long ago and far away, in a place known as ‘Jr. High School’, I was something of a living legend. I walked the halls with an easy smile on my face and a swagger in my step that proclaimed for all who saw me that I was a somebody. I wasn’t just another student, your average bookworm with his fair share of charm and good looks. No, I was so much more than that.

I was my school’s GUY.

You know, THAT guy. The one everyone in school knew, even if just by sight. Every school has a That Guy, and in my school I was he. I was the guy all the other kids wanted to know, the dude they would clear a spot for at even the most crowded of lunch tables, the one they picked first in gym class. I was the student all the female teachers just knew would be a heartbreaker, the troublemaker the principal would always let off with a warning and a smile, the dude the other boys wanted to be.

And the boy all the cute girls whispered about in study hall.

Past ‘nice’, beyond the border of ‘cool’ and forging ahead into the realm of ‘popular’, I moved through the hallowed halls of my school like a king amongst his subjects. I was the one who everyone said hi to, whether they really knew me or not, simply to be able to brag to their friends after school that they ‘knew’ me. Like a medieval Lord touring his countryside domain, the denizens of the school would stop their daily activities as I wandered past to smile at me, touch my hands or bask in my glory in the hopes I would acknowledge their pitiful existence and thus give meaning to their otherwise horrid and worthless lives.

And with but a nod and a smile, I would make their life complete.

Walking those halls, my fellow students would part to let me pass through the crowds as if I were Moses and they the Red…

“Oooff!”

“Hey, watch where you’re going tard-breath! If you weren’t so busy staring off into space with that dumb smile on your face you wouldn’t have bumped into me like the dumbass that you are and dropped all your stupid books.”

“mumble…”

“What did you say?”

“Sorry.”

“You bet your skinny little ass you’re sorry, skidmark. Hey, what’ve you got there, nerd?”

“mumble, mumble…”

“Holy crap, I don’t believe it! Of all the new dorks here today, you must be the biggest! Hey everybody, look at the new kid! He’s got a dorky Dungeon Master’s Guide! Haha! I bet he even carries his dice in a gay felt sack tied closed with a string, the gay farthead!”

*sniffle*

“Awww, look everyone, the little D&D nerd’s going to cry! Cry dweeb-face, cry! Run home to your momma and cry! Hahahahaha!”

Sigh. I was like a god, once…

“I don’t think this is a good idea, GeekMan.”
“Don’t worry about it, Princess. We’re standing in the middle of SOHO on a sunny afternoon and we’re surrounded by people doing their weekend shopping. What do you think this guy going to do to us that’s so horrible? Fart loudly?”

With that I turned away from my doubting cousin and back towards the upstanding young man who had asked us a question. It was a beautiful, sunny summer’s day in 1993 and I was flush with cash from my first paycheck at my new job. My cousin Princess and I had decided to celebrate by going shopping for some much needed new clothing and accessories. She was looking for a new watch and I was looking for a new coat.

I know it was summer, but everyone knows you get the best deals off-season.
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“Heads up GeekMan, here comes Big Julie.”

Art, my best friend at camp, said this quite calmly as we sat on the bleachers by the baseball field pulling the legs off of daddy long leg spiders to pass the time between lunch and dinner. Usually such a pronouncement would have been met by my indifferent nonchalance, but earlier in the day I had been informed that Big Julie seemed to want to ‘talk’ to me and that caused me to raise my head in alarm and begin calculating the success probabilities of hiding vs. fleeing vs. suddenly developing psychic powers and destroying Big Julie in a ball of fire. Seeing how close she was to the bleachers, I quickly rejected the first two plans of action and desperately searched for a means of implementing the third.

Needless to say, I was unsuccessful.
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Heidi was my girl.

Well, she wasn’t really my girl, especially since she was 18 and I was only 11, but still, she thought I was cute and didn’t flee my presence like all the other girls in camp. Plus, she was the counselor for Girls Bunk 5 which was the camps’ group of 15 year old girls, all of whom had boobies, so when I visited her I might get lucky and see some cute girl in her bra. However, contrary to popular camp lore, I never once witnessed one of the infamous lingerie pillow fights all the boys in camp just knew the girls had every night. I could only conclude they were controlling their base nature until I left for fear of warping my young and impressionable mind.

Damn their good intentions.
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Time:
Sometime during my college years.

Place:
My college dorm.

“Oh yeah, baby. Come to papa.”

The young man stared into the bathroom mirror with such concentration that his own reflection seemed to waver before his eyes like a heat mirage. His eyes became slits and his brow a study of determination as he concentrated on the task at hand. He knew that he had but a moment or two before someone would knock on the bathroom door to demand entry and thus end his chances of successfully fulfilling his desire. Even worse, he might be caught in the process. And for this task, failure was a HECK of a lot better than being caught in the act. Repressing a shudder at the thought of what would happen should he get caught… again, the young man redoubled his efforts, causing a ‘squishy’ noise to permeate the small room.

“Yeah, baby. Oh yeah. That’s it… thaaaat’s it. That’s the spot. Almost there, baby. Just a little more…”

The ‘squishy’ noises continued for a few moments in silence.

“Oh… yeeeaaahhh… That’s it. Uh… Mmmm… Come to Papa, beyatch. Come to Papa…”

Suddenly, the bathroom door bursts open to reveal an angry and thoroughly disgusted young woman. Unable to stop what he’s doing in time, the young man turns to the woman in embarrassment, knowing that he will never live this episode down no matter how long he might live. Shaking her head in resigned disgust, the young woman turns away from the red-faced young man and slowly closes the door behind her. Just before the door shuts completely, she whispers;

“It’s not that you do it, that I could understand. I could even forgive you for enjoying it as much as you do. But must you make so much noise while you’re at it?”

The young man remains silent, leaving his head bowed in shame until the door is fully closed behind his young girlfriend. Signing softly to himself, he turns around like a condemned man to face his reflection in the mirror. He knows she’s right, that what he’s doing is disgustingly vulgar at best, but he also knows he won’t be able to rest until he’s finished what he started. Resigned to his fate, the young Geek shrugs to himself as he once again extends his index finger and raises it to his face.

And shoves it deep into his left nostril.