text: The following is a story about addiction. Sometimes it feels like you have a gnome on your shoulder making all the bad decisions for you. &#x200B; We sat in a circle facing each other in the community room on a Saturday. A man with a shaggy beard stood up. "Hi everyone. My name is David and I have a gnome on my shoulder." "Hi David." "The gnome is the one who likes my beard long," began David. The group chuckled. Everyone knew gnomes didn't like you cutting your hair. They need long hair so they can hide. David finished his story by explaining how he has going to put burs in his beard to help drive the gnome away. Though everyone congratulated him on his unique idea, I was not impressed. Gnomes are smart, you can't keep them away with a couple burs in your beard. A lady dressed in pink stood up and spoke in an exaggerated formal manner. "Hello everyone, my name is Elizabeth. I had a dinner party the other night and cooked up an exquisite sea cod in a semillon sauvignon blanc sauce, but my gnome insisted I drink the whole bottle." Elizabeth looked above and put a gloved hand to her forehead in a dramatic sigh. The group comforted her, but not me. Everyone should know that gnomes get bored easily. You cannot expect them to sit quietly at a dinner party without causing mischief. The next man to stand up said he came close to catching his gnome the other day. His gnome fell off his shoulder when he was gardening. I've had something like that happen to me before and distinctly remember the moment of shock as I saw the gnome for the first time. He had always been on my shoulder and I could not imagine a life without him. The gnome, however, woke from its nap and casually climbed up my leg to once again sit on my shoulder. A man with very small glasses now had everyone's attention. He was writing frantically on a white board what we knew about gnomes and how we could outsmart them. For some time I thought I could outsmart my gnome, but he was always two steps in front. There were good days and bad, but the gnome was always there. Perhaps that was why I hesitated when my gnome fell off my shoulder. Another man was fighting for the groups attention with talk of a medicine that would drive the gnomes away. A third man pulled out nets he said could catch gnomes. One of the group members suggested they bait the gnomes to their traps, but could not think of what they eat. I watched the chaos before me and tried to retreat into my mind as I ignored the growing noise. Every Saturday people come up with the most ridiculous ways to get rid of their gnomes. Sure medicine could work, but you're going to have a hard time trying to trick the gnome into taking it. Even catching a gnome with a net could work, but what would you do when you catch it? You could try leaving your gnome somewhere but you'll miss its nagging voice and soon go back to where you left it. There is, however, one way that works and its more simple than the rest. You run. That's what I did the last time my gnome fell off my shoulder. I ran until my legs burned, then I ran some more. I ran towards a new life without a gnome on my shoulder and began discarding my unwanted memories of my past. After some time I got a stitch. I couldn't run forever. Eventually my gnome would wake up and stroll casually to me. Huffing and puffing, I ran on with no direction in mind. There was nowhere I could go where the gnome wouldn't find me. I think it's because they begin to think the way you do, living on your shoulder. I tried constructing mental images of my new life without my gnome, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he would come back. Nor could I imagine what a normal life would be like. Without a gnome on my shoulder making snide remarks at the absurdity of life, I'm no longer mocking it, but joining it. My run had dropped to a jog. I would not be able to relate to those who have never had a gnome on their shoulder. Not that I would find anyone who would believe me when I said I used to have a gnome on my shoulder. One that made bad decisions for me. Everyone who has not experienced the madness a gnome brings into your life, would think I'm crazy. My jog had slowed to a walk. I circled the block a few times then went home. I wasn't sure whether it was my conscious choice, or the gnome calling me through a spell. That day, I walked past this community center, several times actually, and noticed a drawing of a gnome at the door. That was a some time ago and I'd been coming here each Saturday since. Though I'm doubtful of the strange ways to catch gnomes this mismatch group comes up with, it is a comfort to see others who knows what it is like to have a gnome on your shoulder. I looked to the women dressed in pink, then at the bearded man. There was no one person gnomes liked. It could be anyone. And so, I listen to what they have to say, hoping one day they'll discover the miracle cure. &#x200B; \*\*\* &#x200B; The room opposite was booked by the groups' gnomes. They too sat in a circle frantically drawing on whiteboards. They were not, however, coming up with ways to leave their human, but rather ways to keep them coming back. They wrote lists and lists of ideas. They're crafty little bugger, gnomes.