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March 4, 2008


There's an elf at your front door.

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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 7:39 PM · Permalink

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