If you’ve been out a little later than you should have been or went harder than you needed to, you probably woke up a little hung over. You try all the tricks to avoid one – eat some bread to soak up the booze, have a greasy breakfast, power down some Pedialyte, pickle juice, pickle juice, pickle juice. It’s all bullshit. Science tries to explain hangovers away as classic symptoms of dehydration. That’s bullshit too. After year’s of experience, there is only one logical and proven explanation.
That little fucking prick.
Oh, you don’t know who The Elf is? Well my friend, it’s this little shit right here:
“But Casino Guy, how does The Elf cause a hangover?” Great question friend. The Elf has a basic modus operandi. If anyone ever catches this asshole, we can tie him back to and charge him with crimes upon humanity dating back to the first time the Chinese started getting cocked on rice mead. He’s left his calling card more times than I can count. The Elf comes in while you are sleeping and:
- Shits in your mouth (dragon breath, cotton mouth, etc.)
- Rabbit punches your entire body (overall aches)
- Steals all your money (pretty self explanatory)
- Stuffs prunes down your throat (try and get off the toilet for 10 minutes. I’ll wait…..)
- Hits you over the head with a hammer (that killer headache)
If this isn’t proven science I don’t know what is.
This dink has paid me more visits than I care to count. He’s cost me more money than I care to recognize. It’s a sobering thought (pun intended) to think of the considerable net worth I would have amassed if I’d never met this little demon seed.
But, as one of the most legendary merrymakers once said:
“I feel bad for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.” Frank Sinatra
To The Elf: Thanks for the “memories” I guess. Also, go fuck yourself. Sincerely, Casino Guy