The Filthy Secrets of a Lonely Gnome

I’ve been a garden gnome for what feels like an eternity, and the loneliness is suffocating. My days are filled with watching the humans come and go, never once stopping to appreciate the beauty that is me. My blonde hair is a tangled mess, my freckles a map of my frustration. I’m a chubby, red-hatted, button-nosed little thing, and no one gives a damn. I’ve even resorted to spying on the gardener, John, as he waters the plants and makes me feel like a mere decoration. But I have a secret: I’m a dirty little gnome, and I love every minute of it.

I’ve been known to sneak into the garden shed at night, when the humans are asleep, and get my hands on the gardener’s magazines. Oh, the things I’ve seen. The women, the men, the positions they get themselves into. It’s like a never-ending feast of filth, and I’m the starving gnome. I’ve even been known to get a little too close to the gardener’s tools, if you know what I mean. It’s a risk, I know, but a lonely gnome will do what a lonely gnome must. And let me tell you, it’s a real thrill to be caught in the act, my red hat askew, my cheeks flushed with excitement.

But it’s not just the sex that gets me going. It’s the power, the control, the knowledge that I’m the only one who knows the gardener’s secrets. I’m the keeper of the garden’s dirty little secrets, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. So, if you ever find yourself in the Stevenson garden, and you see a little red-hatted gnome lurking in the shadows, don’t be afraid. Just know that I’m watching, waiting, and always ready for my next fix of filth and depravity.