Attack of the Mounted Gnomes Part 14

Suddenly all of the bombs that Mr. Thumb had been storing up in his basement, in preparation for World War 3, decided to spontaneously combust. Everyone who was in the house died.

The End

That’s what it would look like if everyone died in a horribly unimaginative and boring way…

 Now this is how everything really happened: (Just making sure you were paying attention.)

Sir Champagne's voice was quavering and disgustingly high pitched for a man’s voice, and it was very much like Sara Brightman’s voice but coming out of a man’s body. The resulting undulating tones were absolutely nauseating to hear. I lost all concentration completely, and the gun on the ground ceased to quiver.

Sir Champagne Noticed and smiled evilly, but he still continued to sing. The smile seemed to convey everything that he wanted to say. It said to me: As long as I am singing neither of you will be able to use your powers. I instinctively sensed that fact as well, and I knew that even if I closed my eyes and we tried to escape through the door with invisibility—with the wicked looking handgun still in the assassins hands—we would be very much un-invisible. Oh, and we would die.

The assassin taking advantage of our decapitated state stepped forward and grabbed Chris by her forearm and put the gun to her temple.

“Where is the cheese!” He sang in his awfully high opera. “Tell me or the girl will get her brains blown out all over the floor!”

I couldn’t say anything I was still so stupefied by his horrible singing voice.

Just then the reinforcement arrived. It was that gnomish cavalry! I could hear them coming before I saw them. They burst into the dining hall carrying tiny trumpets to their lips. The gnome with the chainsaw was in the front of the small cavalry. They were ridding atop grotesquely large sewer rats, which were scuttling across the floor ferociously toward the assassin.

By the time Sir Champagne noticed the gnomes were already upon him.

The Rats leaped off the floor and began climbing up Sir Champagne pants. The gnomes began prodding his bottom with spears and beating his kneecaps with tiny clubs.

The assassin screamed like a little girl for the second time that evening. Boy, I thought. For an assassin he sure is girly.

I grabbed Chrysanthemum’s arm and we fled out of the kitchen. Ironically I noticed that Chris still had her purple purse around her left shoulder where the cheese had been safely stowed away the entire time.

While the assassin was busy fighting off the rats and gnomes we ran out of the dining hall and out the front door.

To Be Continued…