“Ahhh. Satan!”
“Get him in the Church and he’ll explode!!!”

Simister666, “Who Killed Soloman?”
Meanwhile, down in the Dome, where gnome one gnomes, gnomes are doin’ opiome…

“Heyyyy man.”
“Yeah man?”
“Did you forget what you were gonna’ say again?”
“It’s cause you’re high as f**ck man. You literally smoked like fifteen times as many tokes as like literally everyone else every day.”
“Hey mine are like blades of grass next to your tree trunk J’s. Rippin’ roots and shootin shoots up you like you’re the slash and burn of pot…like Brazil levels of not giving a fuck.”
“No one can even understand what you’re frickin’ saying man,” piped in Uoot Acustramond who couldn’t stand when Jardley Yarvis and Uticia Fuctus argued through his high. It was like little aliens barbbling. But not in the good way–not in the high way when you’re on DMT and you understand what six dimensions look like because you walked through each intersecting astral plane before finding yourself in an opium den full of little barbbling aliens in psychedelic robes chanting in glossolalic tongues performing a hermetic ritual on the floor.
“Yes they can. Yes people can understand what I’m talking about,” piped in Jardley between pipes.

“No. You can’t speak for them! That’s presumptuous. Because I am them and I’m telling you you don’t make sense,” replied Uoot, laughing at the stupidity of every single life form that is not him.
“No. You can’t be ‘them.’ That’s a different pronoun,” scoffed Jardley.
“No dude. I mean, like in your sentence. I am them. I was them in the sentence and I am telling you that you can’t tell me what I do or do not understand. That’s just presumptuous.”
“Wow, you been readin’ the thesaurus again?”
“Ok, so what were you gonna’ say?”
“I was gonna’ say what I said.”
“You didn’t say jack shit man.”
“Yes I did. I’ve been doing nothing but saying stuff. I am saying stuff right now.”
“Wow. You’re just, blowing my mind. I am literally like paralyzed from how witty that was.”
“OK, if you’re so smart then tell me what I was gonna’ say.”
“Wha–how could I tell you what I was gonna’ say. Like I couldn’t know that because…I’m not yoouuuu?…Stupid as f**ck.” At this point Crangraw Pretentia resolved the conflict by turning up Futuresynthwave Space Trance Electronic Kosmix and the bickering was instantly overpowered by an elongated electronic slide-whoop with ethnic drumming. Jardley’s eyes glazed back into the delight of a forgetful pot cloud while Uoot rapidly cursed and then broke in laughter. Meanwhile, Crangraw Pretentia continued to dance a good 50 feet away to the loudest sound there is–the sound of her own mind in Psilocybin flow which no sound within space-time could alter. For a few seconds, everyone else fell into silence while Crangraw twirled and whirled her arms in beams of liquid sunlight.

Crangraw embraces the joy of life and the divine in the present as she weaves her arms through liquid sunlight that sounds like if sunflowers were sound

…..wheeeeeeeeeeeeewubble-a-bubble-gar. The sound of a long draw on the bubble blower garbled. Then, a sharp and abrasive knock.
“Whoooo’s knocking?” whined Thermal Mountain.
“Did someone lock themselves in the orgy room again?” said Thurduckle Chonkley, “we really should have made that door open from both sides…I’ll go check…”

Thurduckle enters the orgy room

The knocking does not cease by talking about it.
“Haha, the orgy room is like literally coming from the opposite direction. It’s coming from the front door for everyone who can like actually hear,” chuckled Ulfer.
“Oh my god. I hope it’s not that bitch Asstitty!!” raged Gogglisticus Garggler-LeLac spontaneously out of his meditation in a distant corner where he sat close-eyed in lotus pose before bursting out this comment, blood-shot eyes suddenly opening in piercing stare, before shutting immediately and resuming the meditation.

“Oh my god. I hope it’s not that bitch Asstitty!!”

Thoriatober Tillurch took in a large gulp and laughed in hearty wheeze while expelling smoke: “Huh huh huh. Is that her name? That’s funny.”
“That dude in the trench coat kept calling her to do things. She like runs after him and then runs around baking stuff,” chirped Hoppititia Bopper.
“OH?” Jardley awoke from a stupor as deep and glassy-eyed as a teddy bear’s.
“No, not like baking,” quickly replied Uoot Acustramond.
“Awww,” sighed Jardley as he faded back into half-death and drew in another drag followed by a creaking sound from the depths of his throat.
“I saw her there when I made the vegan liberation raid on the kitchen this morning,” continued Hoppititia.

Hoppititia Bopper is witness to Chastity’s feminine duties

“Did you free any mice?” said Xexy Ryxen-Vixen.
“No, but I did pour some milk down the toilet. And I smashed some roach traps when she was looking away while the brownies baked.”

Chastity follows the dictates of natural law
Hoppititia raids the fridge in the name of anti-capitalism
Chastity fantasizes about producing children

“Fucking A, dude,” said Thoriatober, “unless there were roaches in them that were still alive. Then you suck for smashing them.”
“No there weren’t. Only Utitcia does that.”
“Fuck you!” called Uticia from across the room where she was watching her painting dry, which she had made to preserve the knowledge she obtained from plant medicine of the three stages of chakra-love that belong only to all living beings and emanate the knowledge through the help of a mood outlet so that others could feel what plant medicine had enabled Uticia to feel when she beheld a tree and realized that we are not just like trees, we are trees and each chakra region glows in the three levels of reality (body, mind, and inner eye) pulsating like a heart in the inner tree. This is why only things that are alive have auras. Plastic bags do not have auras.

“Was she really baking brownies without pot? Dude, I don’t even know what they taste like without grass.”
“Yeah man” said Hoppititia, “I couldn’t smell anything in them.”

Chastity does the work of the Lord with a placid smile, thinking that one day she may not only bake for youth group but for several dozen of her own
Then Chastity remembers that procreation involves the sin of lust
Baking for youth group will suffice
Hoppititia Bopper marvels at the purposelessness of baking without getting baked

“Yeah, they’re was not any pot in those brownies…They’re more the DMT type of gettin’ high.”
“Huh, huh,” she chuckled, belching out a smoke ring with the word “Really?”
“Yeah, Asstitty left to go into this big ass temple ritual with robes and shit and I’m telling you they were like totally lit. There was smoke and everything. And like tons of BIG-ass glossolalic angelolic singing. It was definitely high music. OH man, if that shit had an electronic remix—I would be so down with that for my next trip. That shit was like astral. And that joint was like MASSIVE! This dude was like literally swinging a bong around in the air over everyone! Oh man, next time we do a run ‘upstairs’ I am TAKING that bong man. It was like solid gold. Legit. And Asstitty and trench-coat dude were flying more than the most monstrous dose I’ve landed–or not landed, haha, DMT’s more like falling through space but also up. They’re like–you realize they’re the same thing–“

“Get to the point man!” shouted Thoriatober Tillurch.
“I mean trench-coat dude did some kind of summoning ritual and then Asstitty was raising her hands in the air and talking to a cracker.”
“Whoa, dude! Like no way! They called the cracker ‘he’ and said it was god but also toast.”
“And they wanna correct my pronouns!” laughed Xexy.
“Yeah, he kept talking about the ghost, or the toast or the ghost in the toast or something like that.”
“There was a ghost in the toast?”
“More like a cracker, but yeah! It was the most! Hehehehe.”
“Really to boast!”
“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” raged Gogglisticus from his meditation again.

The toast
that’s really to boast
is the one with the most
of the ghost
Hoppititia desperately considers eating a magic cracker, but eating of the body of man-god is definitely not vegan

“Yeah, I’m telling you man. They saw a god in toast. We gotta trip with them!”
“Man, I wish I were human…Our parties are lame next to that.”
“How come they always look so unhappy if they so high?” added the relatively laconic, but insightful Ostocule.
“Uhhhh, bad trip? One time I thought my own hand wanted me dead. I was screaming all night.”
“Hahaha yeah you were screaming worse than one of those caged kids…”
“Don’t joke about that shit man. Some of us used to be caged kids before we were chosen by the Gnomsen.”
“When’s the next THE CHOOSING?” yelled Jardley, having drained his bong pipe to the bottom.
“Soon dude…soon…we have to wait for the Gnomsen to appear.”
The knocking which had continued for the entire duration of the conversation was still happening. Except it was even louder.
“Hey, the knocking is still happening.”
“Yeah, why would it stop?”
“Phones stop.”
“Does anybody wanna’ order pizza?”
“wHOOaaa that was fast. I called the pizza with my mind and it’s already here. Or maybe it took two hours…Oh man shrooms really let you know just how subjective time is man…”
“I”ll get it,” said Xexy, who proceeded to sit up from her oriental cushion, walk in the direction of the door for approximately two minutes and then slowly deviate to the right until she hit the flower-arranging station where she proceeded to arrange crayons from the flesh-color only crayon set in a vase while singing Jefferson Airplane songs.

“Then why did you take PCP man? You should have taken weed. PCP makes you angry as fuck.”
“OH man props to whoever is knocking,” droned Jardley, smiling blissfully at the cloud lights, “I would have left ages ago. I’m gonna’ offer him a joint.”
Finally, Ulfer rose from the hookah and opened the portal to behold:


“Oh yeah, I called the Shaman. Forgot I did that,” said Ulfer, “alright, I’m going to go prepare ceremony space for plant medicine.”
“Dude, why did you make me knock for forty-five minutes straight when there are 20 of you who could open the door.”
“Uh….we…were….having an orgy?”
“You guys are too high to have an orgy. Plus, I heard your entire dumbass conversation the entire time.”
“OH, I’m sorry man. We’ve all been preparing for the coming of the Gnomsen.”
“Ah, so it is time.”
“Soon man. Soon. That’s why I desperately need to download some data from the universe if you know what I mean man. Yeah, haha.”
“Oh yeah, I know what you mean.”
And with that Ulfer went to prepare ceremony space for Dee Shaman.

Meanwhile in the orgy room…

“Hey man, I heard you knocking and came to let you out because the door locks behind you.”
“Uh, I was sleeping after doing the yoga instructor. I wasn’t knocking.”
“Oh…ok, let’s head out then…oh wait…Fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m really stupid man.”
“Welp….now that we’re here.”

Who is Dee Shaman? What will happen as Ulfer travels on a spiritual Ayuhuasca journey through cosmic outer reality and inner?! What will the knowledge of Chastity’s baking hobby and the rituals of the world above bring to the Gnomes’s devious imaginations? Who are the Gnomsen and the process of the CHOSEN? How fares the child basement? Find out in the next installments of THE GNOME DOME. Also, the American government killed a giant in Afghanistan and is hiding it from you.

Gnomes Gettin’ Stoned in the Dome Home Calling Shamans on Da’ Phone
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3 thoughts on “Gnomes Gettin’ Stoned in the Dome Home Calling Shamans on Da’ Phone

  • October 21, 2019 at 1:15 am

    This is amazing and wonderful and sorta deja vu!

      • October 21, 2019 at 10:18 am

        So, I grew up in the Bay Area in the 1960s… spent many a Saturday afternoon during my tween years in Golden Gate Park, Haight Ashbury, and running around the Berkeley campus with a pack of dogs. Then I went to college at UC Santa Cruz in the late 70s. So, let’s just say that while I was never a gnome, I grew up and came of age among them. Gnomes feel like home.

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