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 By Matt Eckert Last NightHoly shit! I had never seen so many damn elves in my life! It's about two and I'm sitting in some jail in Seattle pondering who the hell I could possibly call for bail for this one. Fucking elves. Now, if the sign says the elves are there for your amusement, why the hell not hit one with a whiskey bottle? Jesus, you'd think I hit Santa with the bottle, but no, it was just a fucking elf. And if I hadn't been so strung out on amphetamines I wouldn't have been in that kind of mood. And who wouldn't get strung out on amphetamines to go Christmas shopping? I hate to shop, it's up there with milking goats and watching Golden Girls. The evening started out fine. I had just gotten back from Wyoming where I decided to drive straight back to Seattle on nothing but pills and rum. It's times like those that I could have used the elves around. Shit, with the mushrooms I was already seeing little green demons. But, I digress. Once in Seattle I went straight home where I downed the remainder of wine I bought in North Bend and decided that it was about time I got those Christmas presents. Cazart! There are too many fucking people in my family. I was looking at a list of 20 I had to buy for. I don't mind the money, it's the time and consideration it takes to look through endless arrays of children's clothes and food processors. On leaving my home, I snorted what amounted to a couple grams of coke, and then proceeded to mix the rest in my Starbucks that I purchased down the street. Nothing is so vague and bewildering as flagging a cab on multiple drugs. It took a half hour to walk to the mall, after flagging down a VW Bus, an Accord and a group of school children on bikes before I realized that in the state I was in I couldn't figure out what the hell a cab looked like anymore. Into the mall things proceeded to get worse. Like some fat cloud of locusts ready to fall as one large zeppelin on your head. My stomach was beginning to make sound like Halley Barry (spl?) winning an Oscar. The math was all there in my pocket. There are four floors to the place and needed to hit them all. Over the first stall I belched a quick shot of pure bile and rum into the face of an elderly man, to the second stall I pitched the remaining contents of my stash and then darted around the corner for security. There is nothing like the sight of a 25 year old yuppy scum bag getting beaten on a bathroom floor only to lose his toilet to you. Once on the toilet I shot no less than my intestines and kidneys out my ass and flushed, wiping my ass on the 250$ Armani suit coat the yuppy left behind. The relief after the bathroom can only be summed up with the phrase State of Grace. I then concluded to finish my shopping without incident. Until I ran into the elves. With every gym bag, oyster bowl, and paper weight purchased and resting in a large bag that I used to make my way through the other shoppers I came upon the Christmas scene. There was Santa laughing it up with the little elves and making holiday joy. I ventured a look and came upon the sign proclaiming "Santa and his Elves for our Patrons Amusement." Patron? I was a Patron. I had purchased things, that makes me a patron, correct? Of course. So, with that I decided it was high time to get the Christmas I never had growing up. But, first, I would need a refill. Climbing car hoods to get across the street I made it to Vons. There I purchased a full bottle of their finest Scotch after reminding the barkeep of who I was and how not selling full bottles policies played with my emotions and set me on edge. An hour later the bottle was empty and I had decided that that was the last time elves would have a laugh at my expense. I don't know exactly when I concluded that the elves were laughing at me, but I was damn ready to teach them a lesson. Into the mall, I got forty steps before a crack team of elfin security was on to me. I could see them out the corners of my eyes, staring, waiting, wringing their hands in anticipation of the day they would have me! No! I shouted, grabbing kids on the head like basketballs and making my way to the elves. According to the police report, the bottle came down on "Smiley's" head at apprx. 4.15 pm. I was in the back of a cruiser by 4.45. 150 children lost all hope in Christmas at around 5. So, you can see my situation, now, can't you? Elves ruined my Christmas. Send this article to a friend! Discuss this on the Levi Larrington message board.
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© 2002 Monkey Spit Monkey Spit is hosted by Boiling Point. All rights not expressly granted to others are reserved to Monkey Spit. This product is made by hand. As such, certain irregularities may occur. These irregularities do not in any way diminish the product, and are in fact desirable as evidence of the handmade nature of the product. This product is meant for educational purposes only. No other warranty expressed or implied. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Not valid in Minnesota, Vermont, Louisiana or Delaware. Some assembly required. Use only as directed. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Apply only to affected area. May be too intense for some viewers. Do not stamp. Use other side for additional listings. For recreational use only. Do not disturb. If condition persists, consult your physician. Subject to change without notice. Please remain seated until the ride has come to a complete stop. Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. One size fits all. Colors may, in time, fade. Not affiliated with the American Red Cross. Warranty void if serviced by non-authorized personnel. Not responsible for direct, indirect, incidental or consequential damages resulting from any defect, error or failure to perform. We are also not responsible for the current political situation, daytime television talk shows, the heartbreak of psoriasis or that Urkel kid. As a matter of fact, we are not responsible for much; wešre pretty irresponsible any way you look at it...but wešre cheerful, so people put up with us. At participating locations only. Not the Beatles, but an incredible simulation. Donšt try this at home; these are trained professionals. Penalty for private use. Substantial penalty for early withdrawal. Falling rock. Kilroy was here. Your cancelled check is your receipt. Avoid contact with skin. Sanitized for your protection. Out to lunch. Slightly higher west of the Mississippi. Employees and their families are not eligible. Beware of dog. Contestants have been briefed on some questions before the show. Limited time offer, call now to ensure prompt delivery. You must be present to win. No passes accepted for this engagement. May be hazardous to health if consumed in excessive quantities. Not responsible for typographical errors. No returns unless defective. Use only in a well-ventilated area. Keep away from fire or flames. Replace with same type. Some equipment shown is optional. No Canadian coins. Not recommended for children. Under penalty of law, this tag not to be removed except by consumer. Prerecorded for this time zone. Reproduction strictly prohibited. No solicitors. No dogs or actors allowed. First pull up, then pull down. Some of the trademarks mentioned in this product appear for identification purposes only. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate. Your mileage may vary. This supersedes all previous and subsequent notices unless indicated otherwise. All rights reserved. |
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