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Lord Marcovan Original500© Member  Robertson Shinnick
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THE HORRIFIC E.L.F. ENCOUNTER By Rob Shinnick OK, I admit it. I'm a sleepeater. That's something like a sleepwalker, except a sleepeater gets up in the middle of the night, shambles in a barely-conscious haze into the kitchen, grabs a small, readily-edible midnight snack, and consumes it on the way back to bed. Sometimes a sleepeater will bring his little goodies back TO bed, where he will eat all or part of them before slipping back into complete unconsciousness. We often awaken to crumbs and debris in the bed. Sometimes a stray Goldfish cracker that escaped the murderous maw of the Midnight Muncher. With habits like this, it's no wonder I'm as big as a barn. Ah, well. I digress. Last night, the apparent object of my stuporous midnight attentions (actually it was probably more like 3:00 AM) was a Ziploc baggie that had been left on the countertop, with about seven or eight of those Keebler "E.L. Fudge" cookies inside. I never knew what the "E.L." in Mister Fudge's name stood for, until recently. His initials are E.L.F. As in "Everybody Loves Fudge". ELF. The Keebler trademark is a bunch of cutesy little elves who live in a tree and bake cookies. They must be Snap, Crackle, and Pop's second cousins twice removed. But I digress. (Again.) Get it? E.L.F.? Elf? Don't feel bad. It took me about two years to figure out. Duh. ANYWAY, I apparently wandered in my lycanthropic, half-zombified state into the kitchen, whereupon I no doubt spotted these E.L.F. cookies with the two brain cells that were actually functioning and keeping the eyelids at half-mast. So I grabbed two or three or four of them (God alone knows how many), and shambled back to the bedroom, munching away. Don't you know my dentist will approve of THIS behavior? Oh yeah. No wonder my smile looks like a jack-o'-lantern's. I guess I must have taken one or more Keebler Elves to bed, and bit all their little heads off in the darkness, like some nightmarish Grendel monster from a medieval myth. So, then... let us fast forward to a sunny Saturday morning about 7:00 or 7:30 AM. Birds are chirping outside. The backyard dog is barking to be fed. I awoke and stretched, as I always do, and turned over to smile at my lovely bride. She smiled back, and then her eyes widened in sudden terror, as though I had suddenly sprouted fangs or shot lightning bolts out of my nostrils. "Wait... roll back over... what's THAT on your arm? AAAGGH! It looks like POOP!" I was immediately wide awake. Poop in the bed, while rare, is certainly within the realm of possibility in our household and many like it, as all pet owners and parents can attest. We have an elderly cat who is not beyond such occasional pranks. "Oh, I'll bet it's just chocolate," she said, relaxing a little, but still on her guard, lest I make a sudden move and get poop on her. "You've been eating in the bed again, haven't you?" "Uhhh...? I dunno." (Sheepish look). So I sat up in bed. My wife screamed. First with horror, then with shrieks of laughter. My ENTIRE back was smeared with ELF Fudge. Shards and crumbles of broken cookie, stuck to my skin, tumbled into the covers. "I think I need help," I mumbled, with a cringe. The sheets were thick with it. It's a good thing my spouse has a sense of humor. My previous wife would've probably knifed me on the spot. (What harm would a little blood do, after the sheets are already ruined?) I need help. Really I do. A sleepeater's support group. Or a lock on the fridge and all the kitchen cabinets. But that still would have done me no good last night. Those ELFs were out in the open, fully exposed and helpless. They won in the end, though. PS- my wife just proofread the story and tells me I left out an important detail; the one that bothered her the worst. After the crumbles of broken cookie fell off my body and into the bed after being slept on all night, I picked them up and ATE them. So? I wouldn't want to waste half-eaten ELFs, now, would I? What's wrong with that? Geez.
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Lady Cop Pioneer100© Member 
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i love it Rob! 
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sirlamre Pioneer100© Member Official Forum Troublemaker
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Yup. That's the Rob I know! Slept with pizza a time or two back in the Montford days, as far as I recall. You gonna tell them about Lucifer Lumps deep in the darkest corner of a campground just west of the Wildernes in Virginia? Eaten inside a flaming sleeping bag along with what I believe to have been a canful of some sort of congealed chopped something or other that might've once been an animal? Last edited on 02:59 am by sirlamre |
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Lord Marcovan Original500© Member Robertson Shinnick
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sirlamre wrote: Yup. He refers to me attempting to cook something INSIDE my tent on a camping trip, with a can of Sterno. The results were rather disastrous for my brand new sleeping bag.
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