That's right. I have become a dangerous,lethal, butt-kicking, super assassin who never sleeps. I only pretend to be a deli associate on weekends, an employee of an LVLX clothing store and a convenience store cashier on weekdays, and a university student two nights a week while actually I am a well controlled killer of the evil...lawn gnomes. One day, as I was downing my gloriously unfattening-yet-feels-fattening Robeks acai smoothie with intelligence and slimming boosts I felt a pull towards the backseat of my car. It was there that I proceeded to nod into a state of stress induced stupor (I'm not stupid, I locked myself in already) which in turn led me into a deep, deep, deeeeep sleep. I dreamt I was in the backseat of a rickety old truck instead of my gas saving 2005 Honda Civic, and the truck was moving. I got the sense the truck had been moving for a very long time without ever reaching a single destination. I also noticed at the same time that there was, God help me, NO driver in the front. Before it turns into a creepy thing I'd like to point out that 1) It was a flat and wide road lit up by soft sunlight 2)There was nothing and nobody around for miles and miles and 3)I'm dreaming in the backseat of my 2005 Honda Civic with the doors locked parked in front of a power smoothie making shop--that sense of safety was never NOT there. So to move on to getting to my point, I suddenly heard a rich voice. A man-voice with no ums or uhs or stutters. It was not God or anything pertaining to a religious hallucination or basis to a establishment of a new worship. It was simply an uncommon voice in an uncommon occurrence in a dull and unexciting place. The voice spoke to me as if he had been trying to speak to someone who did not speak his language, slow and articulated, "Go to the unnatural green place. Destroy any who get in the way. Leave no prisoners. I give to thee all my knowledge to help you in this quest. That'll be $6.95" Aha! The price of the smoothie! I was waking up! Amazing how much healthy junk can cost neh? Well, I was fully awake and automatically moving into my driver's seat to go...somewhere. Starting out of the parking space my mind began to snap into place and what once were scattered thoughts became sorted. I was driving, driving, driving to a place I had not seen before. Something seemed off, to say the least. Then I noticed. Green. Every friggin where. The lawns were not lawns, they were giant pieces of turf made up of Earth-killing waste material created to satisfy the eyes of the many pride concerted beasts who paid what was probably blood money (once). It was a shame that told of the many cruelties the earth has suffered through the more unneccessary ideas of science and economy. And to top it all off, every unnatural square "lawn" had a ghastly ornament known as...the Garden Gnome. My stomach turned at the sight. The pink flamingos were okay because they were pretty and they actually do exist. I parked at the beginning of the montrous hall of overgrown plastic stickers. My hand shot out and grabbed an unusual tool that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and my legs moved on their own. First, my movements were jerky like I was nervous or more correctly, moving against my will. Then I started to move fluidly like a cat. The first gnome never suspected a thing, he just sat there staring at the gnome across the street. I could not turn my head to see his neighbor's reaction. BAM CRASH CRINKLE. The thing was no more. My body began to turn and stomp to the next one. Apparently, they were all scared stiff. More bams, more crashes and crinkles. The entire neighborhood was quiet save for the breeze and the adrenaline buzzing in my ear. The gnomes of...Magnolia Drive were mostly gone (if only I hadn't missed the few that got away-no matter, I will simply come back to extinguish them and their young, for no doubt, they will repopulate). Gnomes beware. For now I have a makeshift rock flinging mechanism that'll knock you silly from an impossible spitting distance. Har har.

Everything within the first paragraph of this hideously long journal is completely and totally, swear-my-ice-cream-on-it lie. But I do own a 2005 Honda Civic. Cobalt blue too, very nice. And if you had taken the time to actually READ it because you think it was going to get interesting, I applaud you my dear viewer, for being obstinate.