Rotting Gnome gets some history

Last night as I was attempting to go to sleep, I realized I hadn't brushed my teeth. So I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and while I was brushing I was thinking about the Rotting Gnome drawing I had made earlier this year. And for some bizarre reason, I started thinking about him in rhymes, and soon that turned into a more poem verses. I finished brushing and spent the next 30 minutes writing out the poem that is about the history of the Rotting Gnome, its origins and purpose in life.

To see the drawing go here.

As I sat in my room
just hanging about,
there was a great scream
and a loud shout.

My name was a called,
the voice was still ringing.
I ran to the window
and saw my friend singing.

With an untied shoe lace
up the stairs she came,
and made an entrance
of such glory and fame.

We did some play.
Some chit chat we made.
We had a good time
till the sun began to fade.

We spoke of art things
and an orange hula hoop.
We even discussed
our daily need to poop.

Soft ones, hard ones,
they're all entertaining.
They're always a good talk
when sunny or raining.

"There's a rotting gnome
in the butt" she said,
I looked at her funny,
like she’s crazy in her head.

“What’s a rotting gnome?”
I asked her slightly confused.
And what she told me
left me very amused.

She spoke with such vigor,
"It’s when a mean old gnome
converts your butt
into his home sweet home.

"He wines and dines there,
among the muck and the slime.
He plans to live there
for quite along time.

"He fixes his walls,
he blocks you up.
He builds up the pressure
until you erupt.

"He comes out flying,
you think you will win.
Oh, so wrong you are,
for again he goes in.

"Stealthily goes home.
To that house he goes back.
To that little hole
in your butt crack."

This description of her's
was ever so clear,
made me wonder,
is a rotting gnome near?

Is he around?
is he resetting up camp,
with his slime and muck
and methane lamp?

Mostly, I believe its
nothing but a joke,
but every so often,
I can feel him poke.