Residents of Puddlewick awoke Tuesday to discover every human inhabitant—including the mayor, the local barista, and Dave from accounting—had been meticulously replaced by identical, 18-inch-tall garden gnomes wearing slightly askew pointy hats. The gnomes, operating with unnerving synchronicity, immediately formed picket lines outside every mailbox, waving tiny signs reading "HATS TOO TIGHT: DEMANDING ERGONOMIC HEADGEAR" and "NO MORE PLASTIC, MORE POROUS FELT." Local authorities confirmed the phenomenon after Chief Brenda Thistlewaite attempted to arrest a gnome for jaywalking, only to be presented with a 47-page grievance filed in perfect cursive on a leaf.
The gnomes, communicating via synchronized eyebrow wiggles and the rhythmic tapping of miniature clay shovels, issued a formal statement through a spokesperson gnome named Clive (designated by a slightly cleaner hat). Clive cited "centuries of occupational hazards" including "sunburn on non-existent ears," "chronic hat-related neck strain," and "systemic underappreciation of lawn ornamentation labor." They demanded immediate implementation of breathable hat materials, mandatory 10-minute moss-breaks every hour, and the abolition of all birdbaths, deemed "hostile work environments." Human residents, now inexplicably relocated to a single, very confused book club meeting in the abandoned Puddlewick Public Library basement, reported feeling "weirdly relieved" but concerned about unfinished laundry.
Puddlewick’s infrastructure adapted with alarming efficiency. Gnomes retrofitted mailboxes into miniature union halls, converted stop signs into breakroom bulletin boards, and began using discarded acorns as currency. Attempts by state officials to negotiate were met with a 300-gnome conga line blocking the town limits, accompanied by the rhythmic chant of "FELT! FELT! FELT!" The Department of Silly Walks (a previously unknown federal agency) intervened, proposing a compromise: glitter-infused, moisture-wicking hats with built-in tiny fans. The gnomes, after a 0.3-second telepathic vote, accepted, immediately dispersing to repaint all stop signs gold and installing disco balls in every front yard. Human residents remain in the library, debating whether to unionize the book club.