A Story Just For Trent

August 12th 2008 by Dan in Randomness

Recently, a person who will remained unnamed (outside of the title of this post, that is) commented on our blog awarding me zero points for a story that Jen had written. As a result of the shame I feel for my lack of contribution and the fact that I am devoid of points, I am writing a story just for the aforementioned commentator.

Once upon a time in a land far far away, there lived a gnome named Nimrod. He received this name from his father – the most noble of all gnomes in the history of gnomedom. As many of you know, the name Nimrod actually comes from the Bible. Nimrod was a great and mighty hunter in the book of Genesis. Thus, he is not unlike our commenter who is surely one of the greatest hunters of all. However, we must return to our story. Unfortunately, Nimrod the gnome did not live up to his name’s great heritage and single-handedly contributed to the name’s fall to its current state in common English usage.
This is the story which I tell to you today.

On a fine late summer day, not unlike this one, Nimrod was walking alone in the woods. He soon found himself on a path that he was unfamiliar with. Yet being the happy-go-lucky guy that he was, he continued to wander down the trail. Just a he came to a clearing, the sun burst through the clouds as the trees opened and it shone down on a beautiful waterfall in the middle of the meadow. As Nimrod the gnome strolled up to a pool of water, he noticed a rucksack lying next to it.

Today, “rucksack” is simply a synonymous term for backpack or knapsack. However, in Nimrod the gnome’s day, it was used for carrying rucks. Now the “ruck” is the currency of gnomes everywhere, so finding a stray rucksack was a great treasure.

When Nimrod meticulously inspected his booty (the treasure, that is), he exclaimed in jubilation, “I’m rich, I’m rich, I’m rich!” The rucksack was overflowing with rucks. He would be the wealthiest gnome of all. He quickly began to imagine all the wonderful things he would be able to purchase with his newfound financial stability. He would finally be able to purchase a new red hat and retire so he no longer had to simply stand in the yards of humans all day. He would be able to buy Ms. Nimrod that refrigerator she’d had her eye on.

Just then the thought crept into his head that this wealth would make him the target of thieves, con-artists, and worst of all, the door-to-door gnome magazine salesmen, so he knew that he couldn’t emerge out of the woods as a rich man. He decided to hide the money and return for it a little at a time. Immediately, he looked around, scanning his surroundings both for a place to hide his loot and to make sure that he wasn’t being watched. After determining that there were no other gnomes in the vicinity, he figured that he should hide all of his rucks in another location.

He remembered that he always passed the same concrete deer on his way to and from work. He had noticed that there was a hole somewhere in the right leg of concrete statue and so it seemed like a good place for hiding his cash. He moved with haste to the hiding spot, stowed his treasure cautiously, and returned home for the night.

The next day, on his way home from work, Nimrod the gnome went to retrieve some of his money. As he turned the corner and his eyes fell upon the deer, he stopped in his tracks mouth agape. The deer had horns. The many days he had seen it before, there were no horns, this was a different deer. He had heard of this before: other things in the yards of humans sporadically disappearing only to be replaced by another or to reappear some time later, but this was different. All his money was safely hidden inside the missing female deer. In days, weeks, months, and years that followed Nimrod continued to search for his lost treasure. It never was found.

Near the end of his life, Nimrod the gnome begrudgingly told those in his confidence what he spent all his time in the woods doing. After his death, they told others and the story passed from one person to the next and now it passes to you. This is how “Nimrod” went from being a great and mighty hunter to a third grade put down.

You’re probably wondering why I told all of you this story and not another. Well, like every story this one too has a moral: “Don’t put all your rucks in a doe.”

One Response to “A Story Just For Trent”

  1. Trent Says:

    I’m all out of points, but I probably would have given you around seven or eight.

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