Where I have been these last few months
It has been a long few months since I last wrote to you, dear gothlings - and I have an astonishing tale to tell.
The small village where I and my elf chums live, on the edge of Gothington Woods, has been plagued by terrifying apparitions who we thought we had seen the last of many years ago. It began a few months ago when the village idiot, a bumbling long haired fool (who had last seen passed out against a bathtub) picked some Burberries from the wood. They are a
bad colour, and attract
Those
Of
Whom
Nobody
Intelligent
Ever
Speaks, fearsome strangely-dressed creatures from outside the village. It makes me shiver to merely think of them...
With the idiot locked away in "The Quiet Shed" we thought our troubles were over - how wrong we were! The creatures soon made their displeasure known. One Saturday, during one of our happy smiley elf celebrations the creatures came to our village and left a frightening array of lager cans and discarded half-eaten kebabs all around our village as a warning. The next morning a more terrible sight befell us, some sort of vile extrusion from the creatures, painted all over our front doorsteps. One of our villagers, a HobbesGoblin of some sort, slipped in it on the way out to the Sunday Elf Church service and took a nasty tumble which left him bedridden and near death's door!
There was nothing else left to do, the elders said, I would have to go to the towns to get medicine for the HobbesGoblin - and pick up a couple of mops while I was at it. I was so afraid that the evil creatures would get me!
I donned my cloak of the safe colours (which as everyone knows is purple velvet with black satin lining, of course!) and took a sip of our green goth brew - a big sip - to bolster my courage for this arduous task. I felt so courageous then that I drank the whole bottle and wandered off into the woods blind drunk. Couldn't remember a damned thing (except some strange memories of Joaquin Phoenix being an undead alien superhero, which was clearly nonsense).
I woke up in a daze on the edge of the woods with a pounding headache wearing a rather fetching red hat, which I am told is called a "Traffic Cone" clutching the medicines I needed in one hand and a mop in the other. And that, gothlings, is how I saved my village (and started a new elf craze for pointy hats!)
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gwengotheelf's journal
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