One Big Happy Story - Part 8

The Elf moved through the crowd with all the grace of a sailing ship in a storm. Keor Dan was in his late 2000s, slim, and had a thing for long blond ponytails. To keep himself looking unique, he’d dyed a brown streak down the side of his head – but unfortunately, it’d come out a little wrong – and now he looked like a bird had chosen to relieve itself on his head.1

Nicking a glass of bubbly from a little goblin server, he drank, his eyes on the crowd around him. This was a fun event, he had to say.2

What with that hilarious race, the little kid doing his break-dance thing (Keor had spent evenings trying to deduce the meaning of said word – “break-dance” – what did it mean? Break what? A leg?) and that awkward witch who needed a good lesson in posturing and walking on two feet, not one and a half.3

Keor bumped into Teor, his twin brother. “’Lo, Brother. How goes it?”4

Teor was one of the weird elves. He’d so admired the human race, and particularly the kind that identified themselves as ‘gangstas’ that he’d adopted their culture.5

The crazy elf was the only one sporting a giant Mohawk, dyed electric blue, and had piercing coming out of his ears. Literally. Things clanked and jingled when he moved around, and Keor had long since given up wondering how the elf got his toilet done – he had a feeling Teor had a few jingles up his rear end too. Crazy sod. Notwithstanding the Mohawk or rings, Teor had attempted to dye his face black for the occasion.6

Keor looked like a bird had taken a dump on his head. Teor looked like a cow had sprayed all over him. The idiot hadn’t selected a sweatproof brand – and the tone was way too dark. 7

“Nice spray-on, brother.” He sneered softly.8

“It’s bruddah, dawg. Get wit da lingo!” rejoined Teor, sipping (of all things) some beer and holding what looked suspiciously like pot in one hand. 9

“What the hell?! The Prince’ll blow a gasket and a lung and maybe some major arteries when he discovers you’ve been smoking pot in his castle!” said Keor, shock on his face. 10

“No one will know, unless you rat out on me, boy.” Teor turned to go, smoking away, and bumped into Razzor, the giant werewolf guard-dog that the Alpha employed.11

“Oh, ulp.” 12

Keor turned away and, not running, made his way as far as possible from his twin, wincing at the loud punches and snarls and whimpers from behind him … (“Not the hair, oh, crap, dude, not the HAIR!!!”)13

Reaching a corner behind a nice tall Troll, who looked like he was asleep or stoned. He never could tell. Leaning comfortably against the Troll’s thick skin, he sipped more bubbly and watched the crowd.14

He had never been the social sorta elf – he was way too much of a people’s dork. But, he had his eye on this hot elven princess, who he was sure was sort of royalty. 15

Keor shook his head silently – who was he kidding? Ten bucks said he couldn’t score with this chick in a million years. Or more. Even his crazy wanker of a brother (bruddah, whatever!) had a chance. 16

But ommybleedinggoshhailthekingoftheelvestheendisnear – he was in LOVE. Definitely. This had to be the Big L. He could almost see the love hearts floating above his head. He had to go for it. Before some hungry werewolf snapped her up, or some sleek vamp sucked her away.17

He downed the last of his drink, and walked toward her general area. Just being in her aura made his heart rate speed up a couple thousand times. Sweat trickled out of his pores in the most unlikely places.18

He stood right behind her now …. Admiring her long flowy silken blond hair. Oh, it had the look of threaded gold. 19

“Er… hello?” He said, nervous as all hell. His throat seemed to dry up as he spoke.20

The Princess turned, gown swishing on the floor. Oh, but ohmydearbelovedgosh, her face was stunning. Keor froze up. Her eyes, green and sparkling with yellow flecks, dazzled him with their piercing gaze. Her golden hair framed a heart shaped face, exotic in every sense of the word. 21

Keor wanted someone to pour cold water on his head.22

“Hi, I’m Keor! You are …” he asked, putting on a jovial accent, and holding out his hand.23

The princess looked upon him with a slight quirk of the mouth. “Not interested.” 24

It took poor Keor a minute to absorb this. “Huh-?” 25

But the princess had already turned away. Keor was left behind, with giant puppy dog eyes brimming with tears – hand still sticking out like an idiot.26

He shook himself and mooched away. He could almost hear the hearts floating above him being popped. Oh the agony!!! Dragging his feet, he approached the drinks table. 27

The first thing he did was pour a keg of cold champagne over him. It sploshed over him, freezing, but oddly satisfying at the same time. His mind froze, and, oblivious to some of the curious stares he was getting from the crowd (they had seen worse, mind you) he lapped it up. 28

Anything, anything to get over his misery.29

Next came the bottles of elven ale. SPLOSH and gulp.30

After that, everything became a blur. His eyes blurred, the room blurred. And Keor, poor lovestruck heartbroken Keor, drank, and drank and drowned his misery in drink.31