Flash Fiction Month 2019, Day 16
Challenge #7: Write a story in which an item is used in an unusal manner. The story must take place while characters are having a drink.
“Let ElfCon 2019 begin!” cried Legolas, raising the Horn of Gondor high above his head.
He then lowered the instrument to his lips and began to quaff Tesco own-brand prosecco from it.
“Chug! Chug! Chug!” chanted Snap, Crackle, and Pop, each waving a tiny stein.
All around the Mercian Suite of the Birmingham Conference and Events Centre, hundreds of elves (and one very enthusiastic Will Ferrell) gathered to swap shoemaking anecdotes and archery lifehacks. Drizzt Do’Urden was available for autographs, and The North Pole Workers’ Union had as strong a presence as ever. A good time was had by all.
Then the doors banged open.
“What up, space fans?” bellowed the newcomer. “It’s me, Gordon Shumway! I’ve flown all the way from Melmac, and boy are my arms tired!” He belched. “Haaa! I kill me.”
There were disapproving murmurs from all around. Nalcarya’s monocle dropped into her champagne flute.
“He’s not supposed to be here!” yelped Elf on the Shelf.
“Whaddaya mean?” The brown, hairy alien’s face stretched in surprise. “You can’t have an ALFcon without ALF!”
“This is ElfCon,” sighed Prince Nuada, swirling his brandy snifter. “ElfCon.”
“Quite right!” cried the head of the Shoemakers’ Guild. “We don’t want any ALFs here!”
There was a general hubbub of assent.
“Oh, I see.” ALF nodded. “So that’s what being an elf is all about? Building up walls and keeping everyone else out?”
“Yes!” cried Thranduil, slamming his goblet down on the conference table.
The other elves nearby began to mutter. Thranduil’s advisor leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“I mean…” Thranduil added. “Yes in the context of a militarily significant woodland stronghold, but in general probably not, no.”
“Then we shall welcome ALF to our revelries!” shouted Legolas, who had already guzzled his entire horn of booze.
“Great!” ALF pulled a very angry cat from his backpack. “I brought snacks too!”