The three of us continued our sing-along on the taxi ride to the Moe Howard Jewish Community Center (until the cabbie made us stop, the killjoy). Our spirits were so high that I didn't even flinch when I saw Meshuggenah Earl waiting for us. He had a new tinfoil hat on, shaped like a swan, which seemed appropriately festive for the night's meeting.
Phlegm asked lots of questions about my Helfanism. He thinks there may be a Helfan in his family tree, which would explain why the men in his family never crack the 5'6" ceiling. I've suggested he research it some more, see if there's a little person in his distant ancestry who could have been an elf. Wouldn't that be exciting!
He asked me about my own elfin father, and I told him what little I know: that he was a carny worker nicknamed Lobo, he got my mom preggers in the parking lot of her high school, and soon after that he left town never to return. I have no photos of him, though lately I've been picturing him as a very short John Wayne.I didn't tell them about the other elf I know. That's a story for another day, and I may need a fair amount of Jell-O before I'm ready to share it.
