Elvin Magic...

Or is it "Elfin Magic"? I guess it doesn't "elfin" matter. Get it? "Elfin" sounds like "effin'", which is a common substitute for "fuckin'". Nevermind...

Anyway, when I was growing up, my hometown's claim to fame was that it was the headquarters for Keebler, the popular cookie/cracker company famous for its beloved elves. I'm not just making this up for the sake of a lame blog post. It really was. It has probably relocated to China since then, but, dammit, they were there back in the meaty part of the eighties.

So, as a result, a lot of my high school classmates were elves. And let me tell you, man, these little motherfuckers could DRINK! There was this one party where I chipped in five bucks towards the purchase of a Bud Light Party Ball and didn't drink a drop because two of these bastards polished the thing off before I could finish writing my name on my plastic cup. It's not like you could call them on that shit, either. I was always too afraid they'd use their magic and turn me into a Town House cracker or something. Plus, they were ruthless. You'd go to use the bathroom and by the time you got back one of 'em had stolen your girlfriend with the promise of unlimited Pecan Sandies.

Uncommonly good, my ass...