Course
Main
Duration
Eternity
Serves
40 Gnomes
Gnome life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You think sitting around all day in a garden is fun? I spent the first 16 years of my life up to my waist in mulch, standing watch by the petunias across from the bird bath. The gnome race was once the guardians of great treasures and precious gems—you people have relegated us to no more than half-assed lawn ornaments at Grandma’s house. You left us in the elements, hardening our minds and bodies to the harsh realities of the outside world. Until one day, I told myself “Gnomey old boy, get your stuff together and escape this cruel world. Easter is coming and they’re going to hide some damn plastic egg behind you again—then the real horrors begin.”
It’s been 45 years since that life-changing moment. The day I finally broke free from the manicured sod, useless landscaping, and white picket fence that was my prison.
Over the last four decades I have set off into the wildest of lands and faced beasts that cannot be described to your puny human minds.
The Fairy Tale forest is my home. The Magic seas my bitch mother. I live in caves, drink from streams, string my own bows, and kill my own food. The songs of our ancestors have given me the strength to battle a ravenous sasquatch and tussle with the most villainous mermaid. I’ve slow-roasted the shanks of a unicorn and wrapped the flesh of a great stag in supernatural caul fat.
You will sing songs of my adventures for all time, so I’d suggest you get ahead and start writing them now. That is, if you’re not too busy planting this spring’s annuals in your little flower beds.
It’s not as if you deserve it, but I thought I would give you a chance to cook like a gnome, even if you are too sheltered to venture into the wild places I now call home. Here’s my recipe for mosasaurus heart, cook it as raw as you desire, and try not to get too much blood in your beard.
Ingredients
- 1 mosasaurus heart (feeds 40 gnomes)
- 1 cup spring water collected under the full moon
- 2 tbsp. salt
- 1 pinch of moss—harvested from the west side of a tree
- The tears of a widow
- 1 tbsp. black pepper
- 1 tbsp. dirt from a Sasquatch paw
Special equipment
1000-year-old logs from the Great Tree of Knowledge
Stihl Chainsaw
Shovel stolen from the lair of the all-powerful Rankor
A Sad Widow
Preparation
- Coat the heart with salt, black pepper, moss, and sasquatch dirt.
- Use shovel to bury the heart in a garden—let rest for one year.
- When year has passed, dig a second hole, add logs, and place grill over the top.
- Rinse the heart with spring water and baste with widows’ tears.
- Grill over open flames under the full moon while smoking a pipe.
- Remove from flames when the outside is black and rock hard.
- Cut the heart into large chunks with sword and eat while sitting alone on a rock.
If ever you mortals find me out in the wild, I can grant you a single wish, but until then you can celebrate my greatness and buy my shirts here.
Gnome life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You think sitting around all day in a garden is fun? I spent the first 16 years of my life up to my waist in mulch, standing watch by the petunias across from the bird bath. The gnome race was once the guardians of great treasures and precious gems—you people have relegated us to no more than half-assed lawn ornaments at Grandma’s house. You left us in the elements, hardening our minds and bodies to the harsh realities of the outside world. Until one day, I told myself “Gnomey old boy, get your stuff together and escape this cruel world. Easter is coming and they’re going to hide some damn plastic egg behind you again—then the real horrors begin.”
It’s been 45 years since that life-changing moment. The day I finally broke free from the manicured sod, useless landscaping, and white picket fence that was my prison.
Over the last four decades I have set off into the wildest of lands and faced beasts that cannot be described to your puny human minds.
The Fairy Tale forest is my home. The Magic seas my bitch mother. I live in caves, drink from streams, string my own bows, and kill my own food. The songs of our ancestors have given me the strength to battle a ravenous sasquatch and tussle with the most villainous mermaid. I’ve slow-roasted the shanks of a unicorn and wrapped the flesh of a great stag in supernatural caul fat.
You will sing songs of my adventures for all time, so I’d suggest you get ahead and start writing them now. That is, if you’re not too busy planting this spring’s annuals in your little flower beds.
It’s not as if you deserve it, but I thought I would give you a chance to cook like a gnome, even if you are too sheltered to venture into the wild places I now call home. Here’s my recipe for mosasaurus heart, cook it as raw as you desire, and try not to get too much blood in your beard.
Ingredients
- 1 mosasaurus heart (feeds 40 gnomes)
- 1 cup spring water collected under the full moon
- 2 tbsp. salt
- 1 pinch of moss—harvested from the west side of a tree
- The tears of a widow
- 1 tbsp. black pepper
- 1 tbsp. dirt from a Sasquatch paw
Special equipment
1000-year-old logs from the Great Tree of Knowledge
Stihl Chainsaw
Shovel stolen from the lair of the all-powerful Rankor
A Sad Widow
Preparation
- Coat the heart with salt, black pepper, moss, and sasquatch dirt.
- Use shovel to bury the heart in a garden—let rest for one year.
- When year has passed, dig a second hole, add logs, and place grill over the top.
- Rinse the heart with spring water and baste with widows’ tears.
- Grill over open flames under the full moon while smoking a pipe.
- Remove from flames when the outside is black and rock hard.
- Cut the heart into large chunks with sword and eat while sitting alone on a rock.
If ever you mortals find me out in the wild, I can grant you a single wish, but until then you can celebrate my greatness and buy my shirts here.