Folks ‘round these parts said the man was a little wrecked in the head, alright. Pauly Paulson was his name and he felled trees during the day to make a buck. But by night, well, no one gave him a second thought. Then one day, folks started noticing their garden gnomes had been wanderin’ off fast, like a Northwood summer come autumn. It wasn’t long before the townsfolk caught on to old’ Pauly’s monkeyshines and done run him out of town like the rascal he was. Later, Marla’s kids found him holed up in the ole’ Henderson barn down yonder. They done found the gnomes there too—every last one of them—arranged in such unspeakable ways, why, the sight alone would make a good feller get queasy and honest lady clutch her children tight. As for Pauly, well, he just laughed and laughed and smiled the most sinister of smiles as he ran off into the twilight. And ain’t no one heard from the Outlaw Lumberjack since.