Shaenon K. Garrity and Andrew Farago - The Zombie Gnome Defense Guide: A Complete Reference to Surviving the Tiniest Apocalypse

Copyright 2018 by Shaenon K. Garrity and Andrew Farago
Illustrations 2018 by Bryan Heemskerk

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First Edition: August 2018

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2017964322

ISBNs: 978-0-7624-9155-1 (flexibound), 978-0-7624-9154-4 (ebook),
978-0-7624-6618-4 (ebook), 978-0-7624-6619-1 (ebook)

E3

Dear Diary

To Whom It May Concern

In the event of my untimely demise

It had been my hope to follow in the footsteps of my father, who,
like his father, and his fathers father, and his fathers fathers
fathers father (we dont talk about his fathers fathers father,
the blighter!) had been a simple pretzel farmer here in the
village of St. Olaf, but the events of the past three weeks have
dashed those dreams like so much salt upon a pretzel. In the
wake of this tragedy, Ive shed many a salty tear, as salty as

[ EDITORS NOTE : For the sake of brevity and clarity, weve excised the next forty
pages of Herr Van Poorts journals, which focused almost exclusively on the
manufacture and consumption of pretzels and pretzel products. Please consult any
of the dozens of extensive pretzel histories written by the prolific Van Poort family if
you wish to learn more about this admittedly fascinating subject.]

On that fateful Wednesday evening, I noticed that my fiance
had not returned from her evening constitutional, nor had my
faithful dog, my faithful cows, or my faithful menagerie of small,
flightless birds. I had just settled in for an evening meal of

[ EDITORS NOTE: Weve redacted another six pages here, for obvious reasons.]

After several hours of searching, I spied the only other living
inhabitants of St. Olaf, sheltered in the ruins of the towns lone
gazebo. From a distance, I could make out a pair of nervous
goats and our towns mayor, who seemed even more agitated
than his livestock.

No! he yelled to me from across the field, frantically waving
his arms.

No, what? I replied.

Suddenly, without warning, a swarm of red, pointed caps
appeared, as if by magic, and a moment later, they were upon
him.

I will carry the sound of his screams to my grave, and
perhaps beyond.

He hadnt said no at all, I realized.

Hed said Gnomes.

I cant ignore it any longer. My mentor, the great agricultural
scientist Dr. Ava Griebel, has gone mad. I went to work for her
in the hope of learning from one of the worlds most brilliant
horticultural minds. But she spends all her time watching the
laboratory garden through binoculars, muttering to herself
about rotten little buggers, and laying tiny traps outside.

Today I stole a look at her lab notes and made photocopies
of a few of the strangest pages. Here are her sketches of
what I can only assume are the little buggers, along with
cryptic and disturbing notes. What can this mean?