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The elf's semen has healing properties. I first saw the little fellow on the C train. He was slender, with shoulder-length, jet black hair. The prettiest "man" I ever saw, and only about five feet tall. I got real close, and he had perfect skin: no pores or blemishes whatsoever. No odor. His eyes had epicanthi.

"Hey bud," I said, when he glared up at me.

He turned away and ignored me. I got off the train when he did and blended into the sparse crowd, following him up Canal Street toward the bridge. He hung a right down one of those narrow lanes and I stayed behind him. It was pretty late at night and we were the only ones around. When he took out his magical keys to open the door to his secret glen or whatever, I made my move.

"Gotcha, little guy!" I said, wrapping my arms around his torso.

"What the fuck, man!"

I mashed my trusty rag o' chloroform over his mouth.

"Sleep, small one," I whispered in his ear. "Sleeeeeeep."

Long story short, I keep him in my apartment's spare closet. He had to be hobbled, unfortunately, but let me tell you, you're not going to persuade an elf to stick around with kind words. I treat him good, though. Feed him only the choicest elf provender: royal jelly, toadstools and puppy dog's tails.

And his semen has healing properties.

Date Written: January 15, 2005
Author: qualcomm
Average Vote: 4.41176