After I got back from that hellish drive I described in my last post, I kicked back and went to a party. I have been to this party before: The Annual Man House Christmas Party. Last time, I arrived into a room crowded with upwards of 50 guests, all of them dead silent. They were listening intently to my friend Jason as he screamed out names scribbled on packages and handed those gifts. Not so much a white elephant gift exchange, but everyone gets a gift at the man house Christmas party. Last time I got a balance, like a chemical balance, and this time I got Ninja climbing claws. Always very obscure, generous gifts. Anyway, in anticipation for this year's Christmas party, Nathan and Matt and I decided to become wizards. Or play the wizard game. No; become wizards.
One becomes a wizard by drinking beer. Harry P was known to down his share of High Life in his later years at Hogwarts. The better wizard you are, the more you can drink.
The length of a wizard's staff is the only true way to measure the apptitude of a wizard. The longer, the better. One will drink a beer, finish that beer, and duct tape a full beer on to the top of the empty beer. The bigger one's stick (wizard staff), the more beer they have drunk and the more respected they are with their fellow wizard brethren.
Matt, Nathan, and I decided to become wizards at this party. One reaches official wizard status when one's staff is over thyine own head. This is all in the handbook.
Only one problem with becoming a wizard: it is difficult. About halfway to my wizard status, when my staff was about waist high, I realized the commitment and responsibilities that come with being a wizard. The commitment meaning being committed to your status. When you reach wizard status, your words become undecipherable by the average ear. You walk with a stumble, and are inclined to grope members of the opposite sex. They are the biggest threat to your chaste wizard lifestyle. And when you are a wizard you are burdened with the responsibility of your choice for the next 36 hours. The next day is usually the roughest on those who are wizards. Hung over is what you lay-people call it.
Basically a daunting task. But those committed and responsible people who choose to complete their training and become actual wizards-roughly 14 beers- are forever more enlightened.
I am sad to say, I was no wizard. My staff only reached to my neck. I expelled plenty of toxins in the form of vomit, only to understand I was too naive to become a wizard that night. Maybe some other.
Matt and Nathan are wizards. Or, they were. And I will forever live with the shame in my heart for wussing out on the challenge.
As the old wizard saying goes: A hangover is brief, and glory lasts forever.
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