And so it’s my final call. The lines turn to dust and the shadows flicker in the background lasciviously.

Like wet garden gnomes.The gnomes come alive and lick you with their mossy tongues. The hairs on your neck stand erect. Pulsing.

“Ooh you’re a naughty little garden gnome aren’t you? Oh come here you. How did you know? Long have I stared at your bulging curves through the window pain, pretending to wash the dishes.” 

“My hot breath comes towards you through the window pain until it drips down to the ledge.”

I pick you up. Cor, you’re a heavy little bastard aren’t you? I shall name you, Gordon Pickett.

Ooh yeah you like that don’t you big boy?

Gordon the gnome pushes me down the wall, the back of my head scraping the brick until he’s holding my head against the drain.

“Gordon!” I splutter

“Go on you lanky human eggshell” Gordon replies.

My mouth chokes out the leaves, the dirt, the twigs.”Go on Gordon is that all you got?”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

‘Christ! It was just a dream!’I scamper down the corridor, into the kitchen.

Some Yorkshire tea will sober me up.

Dan walks past and stops at the sight of my sweaty neck.

“Mate, don’t tell me you had another dream you fucked the garden gnome.”

“Mate.”

“Mate fair enough, I mean I can’t say I haven’t thought about it before. Cheeky bit of gnome porn.”