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March 4, 2008

Dave: Round and Round They Go

I opened the front door to the polite knock.  The creature there was fair of visage, softly glowing in the afternoon light, luminescent of skin and shimmering of hair. Also, frowning of face.

"Yes?" I asked of the elf.

He nodded. "I am Elenthel, son of Almithrien of Gildarion. My comrades and I --"

I looked past him. Along the sidewalk was a small party on foot and ahorse, similarly with the glowy and shimmer. I waved. They looked gravely back.

"-- well, we were wondering. We've been walking, sailing, processing into the West, for ages untold."

"Yes?"

"Well -- are we there yet?"

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SHORT CHANGED

I’ve tried everything. I’m always disappointing.

I’ve tried not wearing green.
I’ve tried growing my hair out.
I’ve tried stilts.

With a deep breath, I ring the doorbell.

They’re expecting Legolas. Or something cute.
I’m neither. I’m ordinary, really. Except for certain key features.

I check my reflection in the door knob.
Is a dozen roses too many?
I should have shaved.

I ring the doorbell again.

She won’t answer.
She’s seen me through the peephole.
I’m always less than they expect.

She answers the door at last.
I hold my breath.

She smiles. “Finally,” she says. “Someone my size.”

Posted by: Nicolas Hoover at March 4, 2008 7:38 PM · Permalink