Gnome of the Brave
Victoria had it all planned. My 18-year-old niece called me from Colorado recently to tell me what I would be wearing for Halloween this year. As usual with Victoria, I have no say in the matter. “You’re going to be a garden gnome,” she said. Yes, that’s right, my brother Jim’s daughter didn’t see me as a pirate or one of those sexy vampire types I keep hearing about. No, she had decided that I should go out in public dressed like some mythic subterranean creature with severe wardrobe issues. “A gnome?” I demanded. “Are you serious?” “Yes,” Victoria said. “All the women will love it.” “With my luck the only thing I’ll attract will be female gnomes,” I shouted. I should probably pause here to mention that this would be a distinct improvement over my current dating status--but I still ain’t doing it. “No,” my niece insisted. “They’ll look at you and say, ‘wow, this guy dresses up like a gnome. There must be something to this guy.’” Yeah, he’s a mental case! “Why don...