The Hipster Gnomes Next Door Are Having A House Party Again

You can tell they’re gnomes because they live in a hole in the ground, and you can tell they’re hipsters because the hole in the ground has a Bill Murray welcome mat. You know it’s a house party when you can hear Vampire Weekend.

I don’t have a problem with gnomes. I don’t have a problem with hipsters. I don’t even have a problem with house parties, but I do have a problem with hipster gnome house parties.

All those Chuck Taylors with furry toes sticking out the coming-apart-at-the-seams flaps stubbing out half-smoked American Spirits.

Miniature road bikes clogging up the side of the street but there’s nothing solid to tie them to so they’re all chained together like some kind of Walmart tricycle display.

You can’t even step outside without getting into a heated conversation about Ghostbusters 2.

Grodo just turned off the music and segued into a Moth-style storytelling event while his girlfriend Anelia is spinning poi in the backyard and their roommate Rerry is stuffing anti-gentrification flyers in my mailbox.

I was young and passionate once, but I never kept pet chickens that were bigger than I am only to smash their golden eggs into the faces of the patriarchy.

They are barely three hours into their Merry Pranksteresque mass dosing, and I have to work early tomorrow. It’s going to be Tim and Eric and pan flute all night. Sooner or later a centaur will show up and puke kombucha mixer all over my front porch.

Last time they got together the town guard shut ’em down and hauled the most argumentative of them, a punk rock barista emboldened by craft beer and socialist literature, off to the dungeon.

I kept finding their little knitted hats all along my shrubbery row. The corner liquor store ran out of PBR and bugles.

Once I made the mistake of actually going to one of their parties. I got stuck in the foyer (the hole isn’t quite man-sized) with a hobbit who kept telling me about his mixtape and barely let me get a word in edgewise about my urban fantasy novel.

He had mad weed though.