Gold in the Garden Gnome

King Rufus, a king whose royal robes usually shimmered with the faint, happy glint of gold dust, felt rather… dull. Not just his robes, but his entire kingdom. And it was all because of the missing gold. He’d searched the throne room until his royal backside was quite sore, he’d peered under the royal rug until his royal eyes were quite blurry, and he’d even asked Sir Reginald if he’d perhaps seen a stray pile of gold coins loitering about. Sir Reginald, with a huff, had declared that gold, being a noble metal, did not ‘loiter.’ It was, he’d sniffed, ‘stolen.’

But Squeaky, that wise old squirrel who always seemed to be munching on a nut with an air of profound contemplation, had offered a different perspective. “Perhaps,” he’d chirped, his voice like dry leaves rustling, “it wasn’t stolen. Perhaps it was… misplaced.”

King Rufus had scoffed. Misplaced? His gold? The thought was as absurd as a knight wearing a teacup as a helmet. His gold was meticulously counted, lovingly stacked, and jealously guarded. Or so he thought.