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#201
12-09-2002, 11:14 PM
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Robert W. Service
The Cremation of Sam Gamgee There are strange things done in the Middle Earth sun By moiling for rings of gold; The Hobbit shire has seen transpire What would make your blood run cold; Now I've seen a Gollum and a what-dya-call-em, The dudes that look like a tree. But the sorriest sight occurred on the night I cremated Sam Gamgee. Sam was a friend from old Bag End, where the hobbits work and play. Said he, "all I need is my pipe weed and a chance for some hobbit bootay." Then Gandalf the Grey comes up one fine day and sticks me with this "One True Ring." So I get the hell off to far Rivendell and Sam comes along for the fling. We're told this here ring is a powerful thing, but using it must be eschewed. So then it's my fate to be Ringwraith bait; If I use it I'm royally screwed. I'm not so annoyed that it must be destroyed, but I am assigned to the chore. O'er mountain and steppe I've now got to schlep this friggin' ring off to Mordor. When up in the pass of Mount Caradhras, it's cold as an old titches' wit. My frostbite's beginning, but Sam keeps on grinning, that genially, happy old twit. He's so optimistic, I'm going ballistic, his throat I would so like to cut. Talk of your cold! Right through the cloak's fold, it's freezing my furry Hobbutt. We get to the Crack of Doom and alack, Sam flubs up on Gollum-guarding. So here comes old Smeagul, and just for a giggle, I give him the finger -- and ring. So I turn to old Sam, with whom ticked off I am. I am smiling to cover my ire. I said, "My Samwise, you go in there likewise," and I kicked his butt into the fire. There are strange things done in the Middle Earth sun By moiling for rings of gold; The Hobbit shire has seen transpire What would make your blood run cold; The ancient knights have seen queer sights, But the strangest they ever did see Was that night in the gloom at the Mountain of Doom I cremated Sam Gamgee. |
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#203
12-10-2002, 08:58 AM
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Brrrrrwah! Tee-hee-heee! LOL!! LMAO!!! That's great. That's just F-ing great man! Thanks for honoring my humble request.  We have now crossed the 200 reply barrier folks. We are now in uncharted terrortory my friends. 
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#205
12-10-2002, 09:20 AM
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Not a problem, Fingolfin. I actually had a hell of a lot of fun writing it, and I'm looking forward to actually doing the whole Fellowship of the Ring in rap form. It's fantastic making Hobbits rhyme with "John Wayne Bobbit."
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#206
12-10-2002, 10:07 AM
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SPOT ON MATE, well done! |
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#207
12-10-2002, 10:52 AM
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ESPN
Commentator #1 And the teams are coming out for the second half and the Fellowship really has to come up with something here, right Bob? Espescially since Boromirs injury seems to have sidelined him for the rest of the game. Commentator #2 Yes, exactly right there Niel. They should throw their game plan out the window. They're looking at third down and forever and they need to come up with some answers. Commentator #1 They can't cough it up here. I mean if they loose the Ring here the rout is on, right Bob? I mean, obviously, the final score is the only statistic that matters, right? Commentator #2 Absolutely Niel, turnovers will be the key here. Remember that in the end off the day the team with possession of the Ring is the team which will be leaving the field as winners. And since their offense has been sputtering all day you need to play tight and not make any mistakes at this point. Commentator #1 Gimli seems confident and has stated in the half time that he’ll bekilling a lot off opponents today. But he’s up for a tough task dontcha think Bob? Commentator #2 Yes. I couldn't agree with you more Niel. Sauron plays in-your-face defense and Middle Earth is always a tough place to play. Commentator #1 Aaaaand we’re off! Wow, look at that! Great fake play by Aragon. The defenders are keying off on him and Frodo is going right down the side line without a defender near him. Commentator #2 That was a blown coverage there by the Nazguls. At this point they need to prevent the big play and stay in their deep zones. Commentator #1 Looks like we've got some extra-curricular activity on the field. Gullom is covering Sam and Frodo like a blanket. I believe that’s a penalty, isn’t it Bob? Commentator #2 You’re right there Niel. The refs really should call that one. OUCH! Looks like we've got a player shaken up. Sauroman got blindsided! That really cleaned his clock. He's slow getting up. Commentator #1 He really got his bell rung there. We hate to speculate on the injury... but it looks as if he might have broken his wand. Commentator #2 In any case he’ll feel that one on Monday, Niel. I hope it’s not to bad. Sauron can ill-afford to lose him at this point. Commentator #1 Right, well Frodo is coming out a new player this half. If he only could get close to the goal line we got a new game on our hands. Right Bob? Commentator #2 Right you are Niel. This is really what the game needs. You really gotto hand it to Gandalf. He’s coaching the socks off Sauron at this point. Commentator #1 We’re going down to the sidelines were Leslie has gotten hold of Mr. Balrog who was at the loosing end off last weeks upset. Over to you Leslie |
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#208
12-10-2002, 11:26 AM
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you wanted Ayn Rand, you got Ayn Rand...
Excerpts from Ayn Rand's LordHead of the Rings Shrugged Excerpt 1 The Lord of the Nazgul overheard Frodo Baggins saying to the tittering hobbits, "Well, the Ring is the root of all evil anyway, and being enslaved by the Ring, the Nazgul are typical examples of greed and selfishness." Frodo did not think that the Lord of the Nazgul could have heard it, but he saw the Ringwraith turning to them with a gravely courteous smile, invisible to all but the Ringbearer under his sable hood. "So you think that the Ring is the root of all evil?" said the Lord of the Nazgul. "Have you ever asked what is the root of the Ring? The Ring is a tool of power, which can't exist unless there is a benevolent ruler strong enough to bring order and happiness to Men's lives. The Ring is the symbol and the carrier of that power. The Ring is a tool of invisibility with which to gain knowledge and hide from enemies. The Ring is the material shape of the principle that those who wish to create a world fit for living in must acquire the might and the justification to do it. The Ring is not the tool of the moochers, who soak off of others' power and benefit by it, who claim the Ring out of need, and do not even have the strength to use it, or of the anarchists, who would have you destroy it. The Ring was made possible by one who wished to bring such benevolent power into the world. Is this what you consider evil? (and so on for five hundred paragraphs...) Excerpt 2 "Excuse me," asked Aragorn firmly, "but why have we rowed ashore again?" Legolas and Gimli looked up guiltily from their beached boat. It appeared to have been woefully mishandled and bore scratches from many rocks that the inexpert rowers had been unable to avoid. Legolas stared straight ahead, saying nothing. "It's his fault!" screamed Gimli, red in the face. "He kept doing all the rowing, and hogging the oar. He thinks he's better than all the rest of us. I deserved my chance and I did the best I could! It wasn't my responsibility!" Excerpt 3 The White Tower of Ecthelion stood at center of the inner circle of the great city. The archway over the gate was a Numenorean portico decorated with Noldorin motifs. Massive Proto-Gondolinian columns framed the doorway. The tower itself had been designed by Guy Francondil of the firm Francondil & Keatingmir. It was an exact replica of the Spire of Khazad-Dum, except that it was topped with a marble statue of Elendil in the style of the statue of Celebrimbor at Eregion. In front of the Tower was the Court of the Fountain and the grassy lawn where once had grown the White Tree. It had been converted into a People's Garden for Sub-Normal Ents. |
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#209
12-10-2002, 11:56 AM
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Scenes from Barry Sonnenfeld's Get Hobbity
with Dennis Farina as Gandalf "Bones" Istaroni Gandalf: I'm from the Blessed-fuckin'-Realm and you wanna show me the White Mountains, huh? And what about the horses, do you breed out the black ones, or have they all just run away? Cheery Rohan Guide: They say the black horses are being given in tribute to Mordor. Ray Barboni: That's what they say, huh? What a bunch of fuckin bullshit. * * * * Saruman: Grima, look at me. Wormtongue: I'm looking at you. Saruman: No, look at me the way I'm looking at you. * * * * Wormtongue: Look at me, Gandalf. Look at me. Gandalf: Take a look at this! (fires lightning bolts from staff at Wormtongue, trashes Theoden's throneroom.) Gandalf: This is just ...(zap!!)... what I needed (zap!) after a long fuckin' horse ride. |
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#211
12-10-2002, 12:53 PM
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With apologies to those of you with talent, and Simon and Garfunkel:
The Ring Of Sauron (to the tune of "The Sound of Silence") Hello Frodo, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, Because a Nazgul softly creeping, Tried to kill you while you were sleeping, And the sword-tip that was planted in your arm Still remains As does the Ring of Sauron. In Moria we walked alone In narrow tunnels carved from stone, 'Neath the halo of a staff, Until Merry made his really big gaff When the Balrog and I fought on the bridge From whence we fell Away from the Ring of Sauron. And on Emyn Muir I saw Ten thousand people, maybe more. People fighting without the ring, People hearing without listening, People slaying wraiths that thought they would not die As Frodo tries To end the Ring of Sauron. "Fools" said I, "You do not know Where the ring-bearer goes. In the mountain Gollum turned on him, and wrestled Frodo for the ring. And the ring with Frodos finger fell, And was destroyed In Mount Doom of Mordor And the people bowed and prayed To Aragorn, the kind they'd made. And the Fellowship returned, And found Saruman in their home. And the hobbits said, "The hate of Saruman is the poison in Grimas mind And he responds in kind." And ends the evil of Sauron. |
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#212
12-10-2002, 06:49 PM
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Topcat, Flowers for Sméagol and Zane, Sauron pie:
You are my overlords. You rule my world with an iron fist. Oh, and whoever was muttering about LotR rap: http://lotr.fistfulayen.com --Mouse |
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#213
12-10-2002, 06:56 PM
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theMouse, Lord of the Rhymes blows me away. I'm going to go run and hide in my closet.
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#214
12-10-2002, 08:04 PM
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thanks
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Zane |
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#216
12-11-2002, 03:41 AM
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LotR & Peace by JRR Tolstoy
Ok, as far as we know all the family names and the elvish words are correct, but pardon any errors.
Zane & Suzanne LotR & Peace by JRR Tolstoy Book 41 Chapter 382 Ringbearer (Ret.) Sir Frodo Drogonovich Baggins gazed upon everything as he entered Lothlorien as he’d not been here for years and was visiting because soon the Elves would be gone, taking with them all the higher graces, but tonight there would be a farewell fete hosted by the most renown social adept Contessa Galadriel Artanis Nerwen Finarfinovna, confidant of wizards, beloved by Men, Hobbits, Dwarves & Elves equally, not only for her sharp wit, but even more importantly, for her influence with Kings and her most stylish gatherings. Contessa Galadriel Artanis Nerwen Finarfinovna was speaking animatedly to Princess Eowyn Eomundovskia formerly of Rohan but who’s fortunes had taken a decided turn for the better upon her marriage to Prince Faramir Denethorov II, Steward of Gondor (upon the unfortunate & scandalous death of his father, Steward Denethor Ecthelionov II) and lately Lord of Ithilien, and who was her favored companion when all things related to gossip were concerned. “Toi harya alkar laisi“ she said, “You know that ever since Mayor Samwise Hamfastski Gamgee’s daughter came out, everyone in the Shire has been delighted with her.” Princess Eowyn Eomundovskia nodded her head and inquired, “Would that be Elanor?” “Anwa. Oh and look who has just arrived and can tell us all about her! Sir Frodo. We shall have to catch him up and ask him all the news. Sir Frodo, my dear! Come join us,” called Galadriel Finarfinovna. Sir Frodo Drogonovich Baggins gazed about the glade, searching for the caller, until his eyes lit upon Princess Eowyn Eomundovskia and Contessa Galadriel Artanis Nerwen Finarfinovna. He began to walk toward them, feeling dejected & preoccupied with his current status, both among the Elves and in the Shire as hero without a place, for amongst the Elves he was respected and honored but still an adorable curiosity, while amongst the Shire-folk his status was uncertain, his deeds and actions not wholly understood and often looked upon with doubt, for the Shire-folk were a pastoral lot of a class little higher than serfs in apprehension of the greater world around them. Overhearing bits of gay conversation that seemed to be full of frivolity and little else, from all about him as he made his way towards the two women, he looked upon their youthful countenances and wondered, “How can they be so happy? How can their minds be so free of the burdens that weigh so heavily upon me, seemingly without care or concern, as if nothing mattered in all of Middle-Earth. How can I become as they are? Free from these ponderings that drive me to search and search fruitlessly for an answer when I do not even know the question?” Sir Frodo arrived before the pair of jewel- and smile-bedecked creatures and took the hand of first one, then the other, giving each gloved hand a kiss and smiling genuinely but rather half-heartedly. |
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#218
12-11-2002, 07:40 AM
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Follows Topcat's, above [though functionally plagiarism, below]:
They need me, thought Ender Baggins, and if I fail, there may not be any Shire to return to. But he did not believe it. Gandolf's urgency was just another trick. Then the minions of Sauron appeared, and his weariness turned to despair. He heard Sam behind him coughing nervously. He was beginning to realize that Baggins didn't know what to do. I don't care anymore, he thought. You can keep your Ring. Baggins laughed. Sauron was taking this all so seriously. Forget it, Gandalf. I don't care if I pass your test. The enemy was concentrated on Baggins, closing him in. Excellent, thought Baggins. Closer. Come closer.... Then he whispered an oath and the Ring dropped like a rock into the volcano. Baggins leaned in to watch what happened. Mount Doom, which filled half the simulator field, began to bubble. Within three seconds all of Mordor burst apart. Baggins took off his headphones, and only then realized there was just as much noise behind him. Elves were hugging each other, laughing, shouting; some were weeping. Elrond detached himself from the others and to Baggins's surprise he embraced him, held him tightly, and whispered, "Thank you, thank you, Baggins." He tried to make sense of this. The crowd parted and Gandalf walked through. He came straight to Baggins and held out his hand. "You made the hard choice, halfling. All or nothing. Congratulations. It's all over." All over. Baggins didn't understand. Gandalf laughed. "Baggins, you never played me!" He grew serious. "Baggins, for the past few months, you have been the Ringbearer. There were no games, the battles were real, and the only enemy you fought was Sauron himself. You did it. You." Real. Not a game. Baggins's mind was too tired to cope with it. They weren't just points of light on the screen, they were real orcs and wraiths that he had fought with and the real Ring he had destroyed. He walked through the crowd, ignoring their rejoicing. When he got to his own room, he ate a second breakfast, stripped off his mithral, climbed into bed, and slept. Coming soon: Speaker for the Undead. |
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#219
12-11-2002, 08:10 AM
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The Ring: A Freudian Analysis
The ring is clearly a symbol of the mother-figure with which the bearer feels the irresistable urge to thrust his finger (obviously a phallic symbol). The ensuing penetration of the ring is accompanied by a deep sense of elation but also a deep sub-concious shame manifested by the sudden invisibility. The ring wearer does not want others to witness his shaming fetish but is also, at the same time, acutely aware that a sudden disappearence must bring acute attention upon him. Therefore, the ring bearer must find a private moment in which to succumb to the guilty pleasure of the ring. It is interesting to note that the urge to wear the ring becomes irresistably strong in the prescence of the Nazgul, obviously representing the 9 faces of fatherhood. The father figure sublimating his own acts of unconcious jealously towards the adopted son for his lust acts as a reinforcer towards the sons manifest desire. The Fellowship in this case clearly represents the sons attempt to overthrow his father in order to fully take advantage of his lust for his mother. Each charecter in the fellowship corresponds to a different facet of the personality and they are constantly in conflict with each other over the desired action that they must take. The creation of the ring itself must be noted as interesting as it was the original Ur-Father figure who manifested such an entity. From this, it is clear that the son figure is projecting his own unconcious lust upon his father. This is probably an sub-concious attempt to rationalise the killing of his father. The proposed destruction of the ring is a vain attempt to remove the power from his over controlling father and break away in order to gain his own freedom of action. However, it is clear that the son figure could never really destroy is lust and merely tries to repress it until the pressure becomes so intense that he finally performs a complete shift in personality and embraces his mother-lust. |
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#220
12-11-2002, 08:57 AM
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Midnight in Mordor- Laurel K Hamilton
It was almost morning when I walked into my Hobbit Hole, blood drying under my fingernails. But it wasn't my blood, so that's ok. I kicked off my black boots, and left a trail of clothes on my way to the tub. Black trews, black tunic, black vest. My leather scabbard that hold my glowing magical sword. I don't always need a magical sword, but it's better to have one. You never know. I had finished scrubbing drying blood of my body, and rinsing it out of my curly brown hair. Baggins hair, my mother had always said. At least she used to say it, before she died. I was combing out my hair when I felt it. Magic. It's a feeling like smooth fur rubbing on your skin. I looked around, and dropped my hand to the scabbard. Sure, clothes would be nice, but a blade would keep me from getting killed. Survival wins out over modesty almost always. He was at the doorway, leaning casually. Gandalf. I had no idea how old he was, but I could feel power leaking off of him, spreading like a pool of cold. I shivered, and reached for my tunic with my left hand. My right never strayed from my sword. Gandalf had never tried to kill me. That didn't mean he wouldn't. ..... I'm to tired to keep going on this. If I'm up to it, I'll jump on more tonite. |
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#221
12-11-2002, 09:55 AM
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Excerpt from 'Pulp Fellowship' by Tarantino (please excuse the length)
2. EXT. HORSE DRAWN WAGON (MOVING) - MORNING A rickety Horse Drawn Wagon creaks down the dusty back roads of the Shire. On the drivers board are two people-- one a Wizard, the other a Hobbit – the wizard wearing Homespun Robes and a pointy hat, the Hobbit standard Hobbit clothes, with a thin tie. Their names are Frodo (Hobbit) and Gandalf (Wizard). Gandalf holds the reigns. FRODO That did it, man -- I'm fuckin' goin', that's all there is to it. GANDALF You'll most certainly enjoy it. But You know what the funniest thing about Gondor is? FRODO What? GANDALF It is the small differences. many the same things we have here, they have also there, but there they are somewhat different. FRODO How so? GANDALF Well, in Rohan, you can buy Pipeweed at a theatre. And I don't mean in a rolling paper either. They give you a pipe full of weed, like in a guest in your parlour! In Minas Tirith, you can buy weed at Denethor's. Also, you know what they call a Long Bottom Leaf in Gondor? FRODO They don't call it a Long Bottom Leaf? GANDALF No, they have no sense of the Shire there, they wouldn't know what the fuck a ‘Long Bottom Leaf’ is. FRODO What'd they call it? GANDALF Sweet Galenas. FRODO (repeating) Sweet Galenas… What'd they call Silver Star? GANDALF Silver star remains Silver Star, but they call it the ‘King’s’ Silver Star. FRODO What do they call Old Toby? GANDALF I know not, I could not find Old Toby. But you know what they put on Mushrooms in Gondor instead of Bacon? FRODO What? GANDALF Mutton. FRODO Goddamn! |
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#222
12-11-2002, 11:14 AM
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Ok, this one's not quite funny enough to do the whole thing, (it would be more of a visual anyway). But, a sketch of Muppet Lord of the Rings:
Kermigorn, son of Kermithorn, AKA Swimmer falls in love with Pigwen, the elf maiden. Waldorf the Grey tells Fozzie Baggins that he has to destroy the ring. (Waldorf is later imprisoned briefly by his old friend Statlerman the White.) He is joined on the quest by Samwise the Eagle, Pepegrin the King Prawn, Merrilla the Chicken, Rizzolas the elf-rat, Gonzli the Dwarf, Kermigorn, and Animal (son of the steward of Gondor). Sauron is played by Uncle Deadley, or perhaps one of the Skegsis from the Dark Crystal. |
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#224
12-11-2002, 05:00 PM
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Quote:
Wah-ha-ha-haaaaa!! That is so damn funny, I'm gonna have to post those lyrics: Note: I omitted one letter of the last word to avoid any copywrite infringment, and to keep the wrath of Eutychus at bay. The Lords of the Rhymes Hobbiton, it’s on!!! I’m Quickbeam with the masterplan I’m Bombadil with the mic in my hand We’re Lords of the Rhymes from a far off land And We’ll Rock this joint with our hobbit band Mirror, mirror on the wall Who’s the greatest hobbit of them all Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins he’s only 3 feet tall Well my name is Gimli I’m a fucking dwarf ! I been slaying mutherfuckers from the south to the north that ain’t Mirkwood I’m choppin with my battleaxe I’m on an orc stampede like Shadowfax Now all you Boffins and Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfeet I’m the skinny hobbit with all the fat beats My name is Merry and I’m five feet tall I used to fuck shit up at Brandybuck hall My man Bilbo’s older than Gerontius Took Yeah you can read about it in the big Red Book. Quickbeam on the scene All the elf girls scream Like a tree, That’s me I Like to keep it green. It’s the chronic pipeweed that I’m smoking When I get high I spin tales like Tolkien. Well I’m a hobbit warrior short and stout I got the fuckin beats that will turn you out. I’ll light you up like Longbottom leaf. cause the orcs smoke the shwag, but we got the kief. I’m Quickbeam with the masterplan I’m Bombadil with the mic in my hand We’re Lords of the Rhymes from a far off land And We’ll Rock this joint with our hobbit band. Yo Beam, Yo Dil It’s time to get ill !!! We light up the mic like a Silmaril Frodo’s on the lam with Pippin and Sam But you can call him “Underhill.” I named the nameless hills and dells I drank from yet untasted wells Goin’ mad off the hook just like a Numenorean I got more rhymes than there’s leaves in Lothlorien. Yo, I’m harder than a Mithril coat A hundred is the number of the orcs I smote I battled Helms Deep and I took Minas Tirith If you don’t watch out, I’ll make your ass dissappeareth. He’s Smeagol, not Deagol He step up to the mic, he look regal He’s mean, he’s green, Gollum beat box like you never seen. Go Gollum! Go Gollum! Go Gollum! I’m Quickbeam with the masterplan I’m Bombadil with the mic in my hand We’re Lords of the Rhymes from a far off land And We’ll Rock this joint with our hobbit band My rhymes are hotter than the cracks of doom. The orcs got bass, but we got boom. Me and Dil be rockin rooms From the Misty Mountains to the Gulf of Lhun. I’m the King Ad Hoc! I will be sire. I was born Aragorn, But you can call me Strider. I’m Bombadil and I’ll gladly sing I got the song for everything I got the number for Old Man Willow Bright blue my jacket is and my boots are yellow. Elbereth Gilthoniel ! we still remember we who dwell. On the this far land beneath the trees Thy starlight on the Western seas. A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna míriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-díriel Which means… Elf booty got soul! Elf girls like to rock’n’roll! Elf booty got soul! Elf girls like to rock’n’roll! |
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#225
12-11-2002, 09:31 PM
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Frodo had no choice. He was only a dreamer. Dr Gandalf injected him with the elvish elixer, and counted backward from three. At one, Frodo lay sprawled on the couch. Now, thought Gandalf. He carefully lowered the Augmentor to Frodo's temples.
Dr Gandalf smiled placatingly at Ms. Galadriel, the elvish lawyer Frodo had dragged to this session, interrupting and even threatening their work. "He is Voluntary, as you can see," he offered. "Quite a troubling case. You heard how he talked about his 'Precious." "But you say he's not psychotic?" Galadriel regarded him through narrowed eyes. The wizard practically stank of his own self-regard. Galadriel looked at the diplomas over his desk. She'd bet his doctorate from the Moriah School of Mining was honorary. Ignoring the advocate, Gandalf prowled about the room, studying Frodo from different angles as he lay crumpled on the couch, the Augmentor pulsing softly. "Something harder this time," muttered Gandalf, glancing at the spectacular view of Mount Doom through his handsome office window. Something noble. Worthy of my powers--of Frodo's powers, he amended himself grimly. Something to bring peace to Middle Earth. Impulsively he leaned to Frodo's hairy ear and whispered, "The Dark Lord! Remove him from his Dark Throne!" Frodo's eyes twitched under his lids. He murmured something just below the threshold of Gandalf's hearing. A subtle change in the room's light made Gandalf look up suddenly. Mount Doom was erupting. Rivers of orange flame licked the broad dressed foundation stones of the Misty Mountains Oneirological Institute. Screaming wraiths twisted in the firey wind, while orcs by the millions marched up Saruman Street. Frodo lay supine, his breathing unchanged. My god, thought Gandalf, reaching for the Augmentor with trembling, grey fingers. He dreamed as I asked. The Dark Lord is off his throne. But not deatroyed. He walks among us in downtown Rivendell and all the cities of elves and men. Frodo opened his eyes. "You changed something, didn't you?" he gasped. He gave the window only a glance, as if he already knew what he would see. He closed his eyes again. "You're no good at this Dr Gandalf, you let your ego make choices for the world." He bolted upright suddenly, grabbing Gandalf's bony wrist in a surprisingly strong embrace. "Galadriel! Where is she?" Gandalf looked stupidly at Frodo's hand. Something was very wrong. "What do you mean?" "Galadriel! The Voluntary Treatment advocate! She was just here! How can you not remember?" Frodo buried his face in his hands. Could even he remember Galadriel? Had she been an elf when first he met her? Or might she have been a dwarf that time? Frodo became aware of a strange lightness to his hands as he wearily rubbed his eyes. "The Ring! Damn you, Gandalf! What did you make me dream?" He wept. "What if I never dream the Ring again?" --Ursula K. Le Guin, The Wraithe of Heaven |
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#226
12-13-2002, 10:26 AM
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First: highest praise to jiHymas for the P.G. Wodehouse...especially
Quote:
Frodo Jones' Diary by Helen Fielding 119 lbs. (but not v.g. as only 3 ft. tall) ale units: 20, pipeweed units: 15 (but organically grown!), calories 20,751(must stop mad second and third breakfast habit) Mmmpf. Oww. Head. Lovely time with Sam and Gazzer last night. If can't splash out with one's dear ones with whom can one? Hmmm. Was somebody else there?? Ooo Gandalf. Love the lovely long beard. And the hat. Wonder where he buys them? What was he saying? Something about a ring? Just like Mum, always going on... "Darling! You really should wear more jewelry. You'll look taller!" Was there something else? A trip! Oh goody! Wonder what should wear? |
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#227
12-13-2002, 11:13 AM
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Quote:
__________________
James I. Hymas jiHymas@himivest.com |
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#228
12-13-2002, 11:28 AM
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Yo, ho, mateys.
Captain "Lucky Jack" Aragorn paced anxiously on the foredeck of the Ungainly. He paused to put the glass to his eye, and surveyed his modest fleet. All indicated from their pennants a readiness to make way: the trim little bark Unlikely, and abaft of her, the xebec Unfathomable, formerly the Lugburz before it was taken from the orcs in the Bay of Belfalas. A nice bit of prize taken that day, he thought enviously. Still, he counted himself fortunate to have cadged this command from the admiralty, given the low regard in which Adm. Celeborn held him.
"Mr. Gimli, if you please" Aragorn barked. "Aye, sir" from the dwarf. "My compliments to Dr Legolas, and ask him to join me on the foredeck." "Aye sir" and he waddled below. Dwarves make such excellent seamen, thought Aragorn. Never complaining about low ceilings. Pity there are so few of them in the service. "Splendid day, Jack. Any chance of going ashore? There is a variety of neekerbreeker in this area that I dearly long to add to my collection." "Not if we're to make Amon Hen by nightfall, and not with this wind. Would you join me for dinner? There's still some of that admirable miruovir, and then we can try the lament for Gandalf." "Splendid." The Argonath Command, by Patrick O'Brian |
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#229
12-15-2002, 02:35 PM
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Quote:
So here's my next attempt: Raymond Chandler presents "Frodo, My Lovely" or "The Big Schlep" It was one of those castle in the Elvish style, the type that were all the rage three or four centuries ago. The address was far out on the Rivendell Turnpike, so that I had to drive a long way on the parkway and then hope I could find a place to park on a driveway. Out here, the castles were set far back from the road, behind tall hedges and stone walls, so that the rich could protect their privacy, and their buried secrets. Me, I keep a shovel. If there aren't any secrets to unearth, at least its good for the bull they attempt to unload. The big front door was carven oak, old and in good taste. I pulled the tasseled bell-pull rope and heard silvery bells peal five perfect notes. "Prelude to Lothlorien," of course, the tune that all houses of good breeding once would have had on their chimes. It was a long time before footsteps sounded on the marble floor within, and they were slower than a truant approaching Sunday school. When the door opened, there stood an elf in butler's garb, looking like he might pass for the elf version of a tough guy. He didn't speak. He just looked down on me, which is easy to do to a Hobbit. I played his silent game and held out my card. "Philip Frodo. Private Investigator. Missing-Person Cases, Quests, Divorce, Shire-Cleansing. Offices: Cahuenga Building, Bag End." He turned to lead me in, but did it in a way that was sure to let the big oak door begin to shut on me. I elbowed it aside. "We didn't expect you at the front door," he said. "Next time I'll come to the side door for the lackeys," I said. "I could get here when you start your shift." He gave no sign of hearing me, except for the slight red coloring on the back of his neck. "Mr. Wormtongue will be with you presently," he said, motioning me into a study not quite large enough to hold the mines of Moria. The room had that rich-house smell -- the aroma of exotic fabrics and polished wood, of high dusty shelves and lightless corners, of cigar smoke and crooked dealings, secret shames and obvious exposition. I quickly took in the furniture -- the Neo-Gondorian settees and highboys and damask-covered chairs that might be favored by a Regency dandy. There was an inlaid candle stand, a claw-footed mahogany sideboard, and a walnut, burl-paneled secretary on which lay a collection of magical scrolls, loosely bound. I lingered over these a while and then was drawn to the carved chessboard. White had opened with the classic Marzabul Salient, but with rook not brought out. It was either a foolish blunder or a daring feint. I knew someone here liked to play games. Then I heard footsteps and silk that had a rustle indistinguishable from money. She came down the curving staircase with the makeup and expensive clothes that fairly shouted "I'M BEAUTIFUL AND TERRIBLE AS THE DAWN! LOVE ME AND DESPAIR," although the pout on her mouth might as well have been shouting "FAHGEDABOUTIT." She took a cigarette from a silver case with Elvish chasing and sized me up, a routine that did not take her long. "Short, aren't you?" she said. "I didn't mean to be." "So what do they call you," she asked. "Stretch? Shorty?" "Teapot," I said. She was puzzled. She was thinking. I could see, even on that short acquaintance, that thinking was always going to be a bother to her. "Are you a dick?" she queried. "I've never understood the need for a private dick." "Perhaps you've never had one in private," I said. She moved to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass. "But I do enjoy a short one now and then," she said with a look that would give an Ent a woody. Then she moved in close. "Being short shouldn't keep you down," she said as she bent down to ruffle my hair. "No, it has it's advantages," I said. "Like?" "Like I can see what you have up your sleeve." I caught her hand just as she went for it. It was a thin little silver dagger, with a floral motif on the handle. A woman's weapon, light and fast -- you could maybe get in a couple of nicks on an Orc before he crushed your skull with a war hammer. "You don't like me ruffling your hair?" she pouted. "I have ticklish feet." "I don't like you, I think," she said and sauntered from the room with a languid motion that was treacherous as the sea and stronger than the foundations of the earth. Mr. Wormtongue kept me waiting for a period that might have been shorter than it takes for an elf to reach puberty. Then I heard a strange sound that had me completely baffled. It was merely the French doors opening. But I realized I had no idea what a "French" was. I heard riding boots clomping across the marble floor, then Mr. Wormtongue entered the study. He glanced and nodded at me, no more of a gesture than is needed to acknowledge the help, and strolled to the liquor cabinet. After he had poured a glass, examined the swirl, tasted and savored a mouthful and set the glass down, he turned and spoke. "Mr. Frodo, I'm glad you could look me up." "If not look up to you," I said with a quick, bitter cynicism that disguised the heart of a battered romantic. "Do you know why I asked you here today?" "Sure. You've got something you want me to investigate. You want an account written by an outside source so you can pass it off as impartial. In truth, you plan to keep me in the dark, point me in the direction you want me to go, and you figure I'll be too lazy, dumb or corrupt to look for the real answer." "Very good, Mr. Frodo," he said. He was smooth, his face betrayed no surprise at all. "But why would I want you write up such a report?" "Because there's a rumor that you plan to murder Theoden." "Presuming such a rumor exists, where would you have heard it?" "If the real reason you called me hear is to find out my sources, you can keep your wallet in your pocket. I don't sell out my clients." "I wouldn't expect you to, especially since I hope to be one. I might need your services as a bodyguard. There is a certain Eowyn who might wish me ill." "You'll have to ask Eomer." I'll have to admit, he was smooth, even when I dropped this bombshell. "How would you know what's on Eomer's mind?" he asked with a casual air. "Let's stop playing hide and seek, Mr. Wormtongue," I said. "When Legolas and Gimli encounter the company of Rohirrim that destroyed the Orcs, there were no hobbits in sight. Those hobbits didn't just disappear. And how did Gandalf get out of Saruman's clutches? He didn't just sprout wings and fly." "But you must know that Eomer has his eyes set on becoming King of the Mark. That's more than enough reason for him ..." "King of the Mark or Queen of the May won't disguise the fact that a Balrog came after Gandalf. The Riders of Rohan are still going to get to Gondor." "Then how can you explain the presence of this diminutive hobbit you call Merry in the presence of Eowyn, or the fact that she disobeyed orders to stay behind?" "Eowyn may have a mind of her own, but that doesn't mean she's in on the plot to stall the Rohirrim while Saruman gears up his war machine." "Perhaps you could ask the Sternwood's chauffeur ... if you could find him." "Owen Taylor is dead. Whether it was murder or suicide doesn't really concern me much. Dead men are heavier than wet furniture." "Then it may surprise you that I have information indicating the one called Gollum has managed to take himself into Ithilien. Now what possible dealings could he have with Faramir? And how is it that Boromir was supposedly killed at about the same time Owen Taylor disappeared?" "Because I KILLED HIM," shrieked a voice from a darkened corner. She stepped out into the light. Even now, Wormtongue betrayed no surprise. "I killed him because I couldn't have him," she spat. "You killed who?" I asked. "Because you couldn't have who?" Wormtongue said. "Taylor?" "No, not him," she said. "Whom?" "Wait, wait, wait," I said. "You killed him because you couldn't have Owen Taylor?" "No, you fool," she said. "Not Owen, and I don't want him." "Owen? Boromir?" "Sheesh," she said. "Can we start over?" "Not on your life, sister," Wormtongue said. With a slow and entirely casual manner, he walked over to the desk and picked up one of the scrolls as if to peruse it as a momentary diversion. Then he turned to her and flung up his arms. "Now you will speak no more," he cried. Even then, he managed to keep his poker face for a very long time as reality had set in. His arms and legs began to stiffen, his skin turn to bark. When I had perused his stash of magic scrolls, I had taken the precaution of removing the magic and substituting blank spells. This one had obviously backfired on him. The frail began sobbing. "I did it, I did it all," she confessed. "I resurrected Sauron, set the Ringwraiths in motion, put Gollum on your tail, ratted Gandalf out to Saruman, blocked your path in the mountains, set the Balrog on you, slew the dwarves, killed entire villages, murdered baby kittens and fuzzy little ducklings, and pimp-slapped Mother Theresa. Now what are you going to do?" "Cover up your tracks completely," I said. "Why?" "Why? Because you're a frail." So she started to cry. "Can it, sister," I said. Women. So weak. As I headed for the door, I turned to Wormtongue, or what remained of him. He had grown leaves and roots. "You're turning me into a tree," he said. "Yes," I replied. "That's Ent attainment." As I stepped outside, I turned my collar up against the cold wind and the rain. |
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#230
12-15-2002, 06:33 PM
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The Warlord of Middle Earth
Zane, want to add this to that thread for me?
Samwise The Warlord of Middle Earth by Edgar Rice Tolkien Samwise Carter, once of the Shire where he had been Captain in the Bounders during the unpleasantness between the North Farthing and South Farthing, looked over the bow of the canoe he had been given by Galadriel, Jeddara of Lothlorien. Like all Midsoomian vessels, it was propelled by the 8th Midsoomian ray, which has not yet been discovered on our Earth, but which has remarkable properties of lift and propulsion, and by which, the marvelous canoe he was in was able to make such incredible time down the canal they were on. This canal, Anduin, was the greatest of all the canals of Midsoom, stretching from the far north, down through Gondor, before emptying into one of the great dead seas of Midsoom. As his hip was the short sword Sting, which, as best as I am able to understand from his descriptions of its inner workings, was powered with Magic, which involves many elements, chief among them Radium. Somewhere ahead was the Lord of the Nazgul. He was a Ringwraith of Midsoom, with translucent flesh that could not be seen be normal sight, but which under the proper conditions could be seen to be of the palest white. Not like ivory, but a stark, lack of any color. The Ringwraiths were in charge of a perverted and depraved cult of Midsoom, one that he had only recently exposed. They would wait at the end of the quest to destroy the Ring, and feed on those who attempted to bypass the valley of Mordor, and the Orcs and Trolls who lived there. The Orcs were another race, large and massive, with skin the color of diseased vegetation, and great, tearing teeth. They would assail the pilgrims seeking to complete the quest, and rend their flesh. Worse than them were the Trolls, which came from great trees around the valley, growing like pods then bursting and revealing the monsters within. And with the Lord of the Nazgul was his beloved Rosie Cotton, Princess of the Shire. And no matter how much of Midsoom he had to cross, he would find her, his beloved, and take her in his arms again, crushing her against his chest, and kiss her full upon the lips. Samwise Carter looked ahead eagerly. He would catch them, and the Lord of the Nazgul would fall to his blade, and the quest would be completed by him, and the people of Midsoom would finally be free of the evil cult. |
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#231
12-15-2002, 07:13 PM
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Hmmm... I wonder if any of the following comic authors might be following this thread:I also seem to remember Sinfest doing a spin called lord of the Bling Bling, but can't find it.
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#232
12-17-2002, 12:25 AM
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I found this on my table at Denny's the other day.
Cast into the LAKE OF FIRE By Jack Chick As the travellers left the forest, they saw a lone figure crossing the empty distances toward them. "It's a man," Legolas said. "He's wearing an odd tunic, buttoned down the front yet it has no collar. And he carries a book bound in hides." Gandalf scowled and knitted his brows. The lonely walker approached closer, and Boromir hailed him. "Hoy! State thy name and business, oddly dressed one!" "I am called Jack," the strange man said. "Have you been saved?" "Saved? Saved from what?" Aragorn asked. "Why from the flames of hell, of course," with that Jack walked closer, reached into the pockets of his garb and removed a handful of folded parchments. "Do you know God?" Merry shook his head. "I don't like this one. He reminds me of that Grima Wormtongue." "True enough. He's got that cheesy moustache. It's creepy," Sam shuddered. Boromir and Aragorn had moved toward Jack and he addressed them closely, as if he didn't want the rest of the party to hear. "You can only be saved through Jesus. But first you must cleanse yourself from this non-human demon spawn. Dwarves. Elves. Hobbits. They're abominations and creations of Satan. To say nothing of that wizard practicing the dark arts!" The two doughty warriors eyed each other quizzically. "God? Jesus? Satan? Who are these people. What is this madness of which you speak?" Boromir demanded. Gimli and Legolas, who were noticably offended by the strange man's tactless comments about their kindreds, slid noiseless behind the disturbingly sincere man. Jack closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if to gather his reserves of reverence. "Why God created the world and everything in it and rules supreme over it. Jesus is his only son and Satan is God's greatest adversary. You may only receive God's grace by accepting his son Jesus." The two men, to say nothing of the hobbits, were baffled by the strange man's odd words. Gandalf reached for his wand. "Cease speaking such blasphemous nonsense!" he demanded, "Iluvatar is the creator and master of all the world, its hosts and the beasts which crawl, fly and swim!" "No. Iluvatar does not exist," Jack said. "My God is the only true God." Gimli and Legolas, who had been barely able to contain their rage at the wanderer's hateful speech, were pushed beyond the limits of their endurance by this final outrage. Gimli's axe flashed and Legolas's bow thrummed in the same instant. In the merest moment the strange man's head was rolling across the ground and his heart was pierced by an ashen shaft. "HAW HAW HAW!!!" roared Gimli. "Must have been some kind of left over orc or something," Pippin grumbled. Frodo just nodded sadly. But unfortunately, because Jesus would not be born until thousands of years had passed in the newly designated fourth age, the entire fellowship was not, and could not have been, saved. So God cast the entire Fellowship into the lake of fire to suffer eternal torment for all eternity. With all the Catholics. And Mormons. And Muslims. And everybody else who doesn't agree with Jack Chick. God Loves You. THE END CHICK TRACTS WORK! Send Jack some money and he'll send you some tracts. Your pal, Jack |
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#233
12-17-2002, 09:23 AM
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The Hobbit
By Michael Palin, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, Eric Idle and Graham Chapman "What have I got in my pockets?" Bilbo asked "Ssssss, 'tisn't fair. You must give me some guesses." Gollum said. "Very well. Go ahead then." "A watch," "No," "A candle," "No," "Keys?" "No," "String," "No," "A fish?" "Not as such." "A knife." "No," "Cuff links?" "No," "Thumbtacks," "No," "A lump of cheese," "I did have, but the cat's eaten it." "Did he?" "She, sir." "A ping-pong ball?" "No," "A handful of filberts?" "No," "Roll of duct tape?" "No," "Feathers?" "No," "Very small rocks?" "Only on Thursdays. Actually, it's a..." "No wait, I'm keen to guess. A gerbil?" "No," "A blancmange?" "No," "Shoelaces?" "No," "An egg?" "No," "A picture of Dwight Eisenhower?" "No," "Two sheds?" "No," "A bill?, A bow?" "Yes?" "Yess!?" Gollum leapt up. "Which is it, a bill or a bow?" "Oh, I'm sorry I thought you were addressing me. That's my name, Bilbo." "Chapstick?" "No," "A pencil?" "No," "Lint?" "No," "After dinner mints?" "No," "Vice-grips?" "No," Gollum threw his slimy hands in the air. "Ach, sssssss. I gives up, I gives upsses. You win. What has it gots in its pocketses?" "Oh, just the ring I found on the ground over there. It seems to turn one invisible." Bilbo said. "AAAAIIIII! My Birthday Present! My Precious! Give it to me! I'll wring its neck. I'll eats it!." Bilbo slid the ring on his finger as the foul creature reached for him and slipped away.
__________________
f/k/a Frankd6 f/k/a AugestWest |
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#235
12-17-2002, 11:25 AM
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Quote:
There was also a Lord of the Bling sketch on Mad TV this weekend, but it was pretty lame. |
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#237
12-17-2002, 01:24 PM
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I'm surprised no one's mentioned the famous stateroom scene from:
"A Night at the Mordor" Starring Froucho, Sammo, Tooko and Bucko Froucho: I say Nob... Nob: Yes, sir. Froucho: What have we got for dinner? Nob: Anything you like, sir. You might have some hobbit wine, dwarf wine, elf wine, orc wine... Froucho: Hey - stop whining before I send you to your room. All right, let me have one of each. And, uh, two fried eggs, two poached eggs, two scrambled eggs, and two medium-boiled eggs. Sammo (requested through the door): And two hard-boiled eggs. Froucho: And two hard-boiled eggs. Tooko: (signaling another egg order with his horn of Rhohan): HONK! Froucho: Make that three hard-boiled eggs...and, uh, some roast boar: rare, medium, well-done, and overdone. Sammo (repeating his order): And two hard-boiled eggs. Froucho: And two hard-boiled eggs. Tooko: HONK (signaling an amended order)! Froucho: Make that three hard-boiled eggs....and, uh, eight pieces of Lembas pastry. Sammo (repeating his order): And two hard-boiled eggs. Froucho: And two hard-boiled eggs. Tooko: HONK! Froucho: Make that three hard-boiled eggs. Tomasso: HONK! (a shorter honk) Froucho: And one duck egg. Uh, have you got any stewed rabbits? Nob: Yes, sir. Froucho: Well, give 'em some black coffee, that'll sober 'em up! Sammo (requesting his order a fourth time): And two hard-boiled eggs. Froucho: And two hard-boiled eggs. After over a dozen more honks from Tooko a dozen more hard-boiled egg orders are made. Froucho ends the order by asking the servant a question… Froucho: Is any tipping allowed at the Inn. Nob: (eagerly) Yes it is. Froucho: Do you have has two silver-pieces for a gold piece? Nob: Yes sir! Froucho: Well, then, you won't need the two groats I was gonna give you. back inside the stateroom, Froucho angrily reprimands the simple-minded Sammo for promising to be quiet: Froucho: If that servant is deaf and dumb, he'll never know you're in here. Sammo: Oh, sure, that's all right. A persistent procession of people from the Inn's staff parade into Froucho's tiny shoebox room no bigger than a closet. Already crowded with four individuals (Sammo, Tooko and Bucko, and Froucho himself), he takes a perverse pleasure in encouraging each new intruder to enter: Strider: I'm a ranger. Froucho: Are you alone? Strider: Yes. Froucho: So you're the Lone Ranger! How's Tonto? (Individuals # 6-7) Two chambermaids to make up the room (they later prop up Tooko). Froucho encourages them to enter: "Come on in, girls, and leave all hope behind." (individual # 8) an obviously pregnant hobbit-lass: "Hi, my name's Merry." Froucho: Sorry, there's no room at the Inn. (slams door) (Individual # 9) Another servant to light the fireplace. He bends down to light the fire and as he does so his pants creep lower. Froucho: Hey! I think I see the crack of doom. (Individual # 10) A manicurist to trim Froucho's nails. Froucho: I hadn't planned on a manicure, but I think on a quest like this, you ought to have every convenience you can get...You'd better make 'em short. It's getting kind of crowded in here. (Individual # 11) The fireplace-lighter's large assistant. (Individual # 12) Smeagol: Can I look for my ring in here? Froucho: Well, come in and look in the washroom, I saw a ring in the bathtub. (Individual # 13) Lord of the Nazgul: I'm looking to break ssssome nasssty hobbitsssss. Froucho: Well quit smoking and don't bite your nails. (Individuals # 14-22) yet more Nazguls: Isss our leader here? Froucho: Well c'mon in and look, if he isn't I'm sure you can find someone just as good. A large number of staff servants bearing trays loaded with egg orders and dinner. Each of the 29 occupants that are entangled together must find space in a nook or cranny of the miniscule stateroom. The grande dame, Mrs. Galadriel shows up in her finest costume and opens the door, letting loose the above-mentioned people in an avalanching torrent of bodies into the corridor. |
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#238
12-17-2002, 01:28 PM
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Well, many thanks and glad you enjoyed it. How about a little more of the same:
from The Return of the Rotating Chairperson of the People's Anacho-Syndicalist Commune By Michael Palin, John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones and Eric Idle Gandalf enters stage left Gandalf: You sent for me Lord Denethor? Denethor: Tis with a heavy heart I must ask your assistance to construct a bier upon which we may place my son Faramir to be cremated, as is the tradition of Gondor. Gandalf looks down at the inert form of Faramir sprawled across a bed. G: But he's not dead. D: Yes he is. G: No he isn't. D: Yes, he IS. G: No he isn't. D: Is. G: Isn't. D: IS G: ISN'T D: IS! G: He's not dead, he's pining. D: Pining? G: Pining for Ithilien. D: Pining for Ithilien??? PINING FOR ITHILIEN?! He's passed away. He's gone to meet his maker! He's in the Halls of Mandos! G: No, no, no... Gandalf reaches over and pokes Faramir's limp form G: Look, there, he moved! D: You did that. G: No, no, never. He's just stunned. D: Stunned? G: Stewards of Gondor stun easily, you know. D: He isn't stunned, he's passed on. He's no more. He's ceased to be. If it weren't for the Nazgul out front he'd be pushing up the daisies. He's gone to the Grey Havens. He's with Iluvatar now. He's left this vale of tears and joined the bleedin' choir invisible. This is an Ex-Faramir! Gandalf shuffles his feet and averts his eyes. G: Do you... D'you want to fondle my Palantir? D: I thought you'd never ask. |
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#240
12-17-2002, 05:56 PM
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THE LORD OF THE RINGS
By David Mamet (The setting: a small office somewhere in Barad-Dur. Eight NAZGUL are seated at desks, frantically making phone calls in the twilight. An ORC FLUNKY sits at the front of the table, shuffling papers. One of the Nazgul, the WITCH KING, gets up and approaches the flunky.) Witch King: These leads are weak. "Shire?" "Baggins?" What's that supposed to mean? What about the good leads, the Lothlorien leads? Orc Flunky: I don’t make the rules. I’m paid to run the office. You don’t like the rules, Shel, there’s the door. Now sit down, the conference is about to start. (A large imposing figure, SAURON, enters the room. He is wearing an expensive Armani shroud.) Sauron: Is everybody here? Orc Flunky: All but one. Sauron: Well I'm going anyway. (To the Nazgul) Let's talk about something important. The good news is: you're fired. The bad news is: all of you've got just one week to regain your jobs starting with tonight. Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. 'Cause we're adding a little something to this month's contest. As you all know, first prize is a brand-new fell beast with all the options. Second prize is a set of steak knives. Third prize is you're fired. Do you get the picture? You laughing now? You've got leads. You can't close the leads you're given, you can't close s***, you are s***, hit the bricks pal and beat it 'cause you are going out! Nice guy? I dont give a sh**. Good king? F*** you. Go home and play with your subjects. You wanna work here? Get those hobbits! Witch King: But I need some good leads. Just a couple of leads, ya see what I'm saying? A little boost to turn the streak around. Am I right? |
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#241
12-17-2002, 06:38 PM
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Little Orphan Baggins.. Harold Gray. (The Musical ~ Charles Strouse, Martin Charnin)
The sun'll come out, in Mordor, Bet your bottom dollar that in Mordor There'll be sun Come what may I've finally got to Mordor Though I said of Mordor I did not Know the Way To Mordor! To Mordor! The One Ring in Mordor In Mt Doom we'll cast-a-way!! Gollum's with us, In Mordor Took us through the marsh deep into to Mordor He likes not The light of Day Slinking about In Mordor Caught by Shelob somewhere here in Mordor She knew Gollum What the hey?? When I'm stuck on a hill That's Grey and Lonely Sam sticks out his chin To grin and sayyyy To Mordor! To Mordor! The One Ring in Mordor In Mt Doom we'll cast-a-way!! To Mordor To Mordor... It's such a tall order Maybe the ring... should... stay...... *** It's a hard Knock life for us Through Snow and Ice for us No rest No easy Sleep Spies of Saruman do peep It's a hard slog in Mor-i-a No more euphoria We've lost Gandalf the Grey Though the Balrog He did Slay It's a hard knock life... It's a hard knock Life for Us Why couldn't we take a bus? For we have had to Fight Uruk-Hai day and night And we just can't displace Nine Nazghul of no face After young Frodo's Ring (Lucky him, for he's got Sting) It's a hard knock life... *** Gol-lum, why are you following Me.. Gol-lum, just for this shiny gold ring? Gol-lum - you and your slinking walks Gol-lum - and all your crazy talks Gol-lum - why are you following Me? |
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#242
12-17-2002, 06:43 PM
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(and yet another Monty Python tribute...)
As sung by a bunch of men, all called "Baggins". The Fellowshipper's Song Ohhhhhhhhhh - Sauron made a ring and played At being most unstable Pippin, Merry, (Buckleberry ferry!) Could drink you under th' table Frodo and Sam had to scram To Mordor, fast as able And Gollum spied with his eyes so wide They caught all things but Cable. There was nothing anywhere that was missed by Mithrandir... Except for a Balrog and a whiplash far too near.. Aragorn had not yet sworn to be the king of Gondor Boromir I heard (I swear) Blowing his horn yonder Legolas and his elvish *** Could run so very nimbly But none could halm or ruffle his calm Half as much as Gimli But Mithrandir himself is particularly missed The Balrog's kinda friendly, but a bugger when he's pissed! |
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#243
12-18-2002, 10:20 PM
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Ok. I thought my "Simpsons do LoTR" thread was cool, I admit, but this one here...words fail me. I am just going to call it right here and now, this is the coolest thread ever. I challenge anyone to find me a cooler one.
I also challenge anyone to do version of LoTR as done by: Robert Heinlein Joss Whedon (Buffy, Angel) Mike Judge (King of the Hill, Beavis and Butt-head) Weird Al Yankovic Sam Waterston (Calvin and Hobbes) Douglas Adams (or did someone do that already?) Or in the style of: Animaniacs/Pinky and the Brain Family Guy South Park (yes I know they already did it, but we can do better, dammit!) The Onion The Far Side...actually, no, that's just too difficult. No one could pull that off... |
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#244
12-18-2002, 11:33 PM
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The Onion:
Area man loses magical ring of power, thinks it may be behind the couch. Local area man Sauron (last name withheld for privacy reasons) has been looking everywhere in his spacious 3 bedroom volcano for a ring he forged over 6000 years ago. He claims that the ring, although of little intrinsic value, has great sentimental value to him since he poured most of power into it. "I mean, I guess it could be used to turn people invisible and bend knigs to your will and stuff like that, but basically, its just a nice gold ring which I happen to like wearing" Having last seen the ring when he went outside to check on some damn punk kids who were making a whole lot of noise outside of his estate in Mordor, he's not quite sure what happened to the ring after that. "I was just going outside to shut those damn elves up, yaknow. There always barging in here every thousand years or so demanding I stop razing their lands and enslaving their people, gets to be kinda a nuisance yaknow." Sauron reports that he is not quite sure what happens next but, all of a sudden, he becomes a discorporated spirit, capable of doing no more evil than a overly dry turkey club sandwich. "Anyway, I dunno what happened but I guess I just dropped the ring somewhere. Gee, I hope nobody picked it up cos, that would be theft plain and simple and even elves are above that. Although, come ta think of it, those damn whippersnapper 'umans mighta done it. There not above anything, them spoiled brats." Hoping that nobody picked up the ring over the ensuing 3000 year interval, Sauron is sure that the ring is just wedged behind the refrigerator or maybe even under the bed. He has high hopes on finding the ring and looks forward to wearing it again. "Yaknow, about the only place I haven't checked yet is the forging room, I was going to do it two days ago but there was some ruckus with a spider in the west quadrant. At this rate, I probably wont get a chance to have a good look in there until next week." |
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#245
12-19-2002, 08:05 AM
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FEAR & LOATHING IN MOUNT DOOM
by Terry Gilliam & Toy Grisoni BLACK SCREEN The wind of the plains moans sadly. From somewhere within the wind comes the tinkly, syrupy-sweet sounds of the Hobbits singing "My Favorite Things." A series of sepia images of anti-Sauron protests from 3,000 years ago appear one after another on the screen. In the violently scrawled style of Ralph Steadman, the title FEAR AND LOATHING IN GONDOR splashes onto the screen. A beat, and then it runs down and off revealing: TITLE: "He who makes a beast of himself Gets rid of the pain Of being a man." Dr. Johnson The voice of GANDALF 'THE GRAY' -- a.k.a. 'THE WHITE': GANDALF (V/O) We were somewhere around the Shire at the edge of the farmlands when the drugs began to take hold. AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! An old four-wheeled wooden wagon -- THE CRATE -- wipes the black screen. EXT. ON THE ROAD TO MT. DOOM - DAY AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! THE CRATE plods down the beaten dirt path at about 13 miles an hour. THE STONES' "Sympathy For the Devil" blares. AT THE WHEEL STRANGELY STILL AND TENSE, GANDALF 'THE WHITE' DRIVES -- SKELETAL, ALE IN HAND -- STARES STRAIGHT AHEAD. BESIDE HIM, FACE TURNED TO THE SUN, EYES CLOSED BENEATH THE HOOD OF HIS ELVEN CLOAK, IS HIS SWARTHY AND UNNERVINGLY UNPREDICTABLE HOBBIT FRIEND, DR. BILBO. The music pounds GANDALF stares straight ahead. BILBO froths up a can of beer - uses it as shaving foam. GANDALF (V/O) I remember saying something like: "I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive..." BILBO starts shaving. GANDALF (V/O) Suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car... Close on GANDALF -- shadows flutter across his face. The reflections of dragons swirl within his eyes. We push in close to one eye ball -- SCREECHING SWIRLING BAT-LIKE DRAGON SHAPES! AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! GANDALF (V/O) ... and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals? CUT TO WIDE SHOT OF CRATE - GANDALF, eyes rigid, flails at the air. No bats anywhere. BILBO casually looks over... BILBO What are you yelling about? GANDALF pulls to the side of the road. The sudden wrench makes BILBO nick his face with his razor. GANDALF Never mind. It's your turn to drive. GANDALF (V/O) No point mentioning these bats. I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough. GANDALF hops out of the car, keeping an eye out for dragons, frantically opens the trunk to reveal what looks like AN APOTHECARY KIT. GANDALF desperately rifles through the impressive stash. GANDALF (V/O) We had two bags of grass, seventy- five eyes of next, five sheets of high powered faerie acid, a salt shaker half full of snuff, a whole galaxy of fireworks: multi- colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also a quart of dwarven spirits, a quart of rum, a case of ale, a pint of raw ether and two dozen shrooms. GANDALF, eyes darting madly as he hears what sounds like the SHRIEKS OF BATS returning, grabs an assortment along with another pipe full of weed - slams the apothecary kit shut and dives back into the wagon. GANDALF (V/O) Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. THE CRATE SLOWLY PLODS INTO THE DISTANCE... on the ground, weakly flapping is a SEMI-SQUASHED, SLOWLY DYING ANIMAL... A BAT? EXT. FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD TO MT. DOOM - DAY IN THE CRATE BILBO grips the reins - stares maniacally down the road - a lousy driver. GANDALF (V/O) The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a mage in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. BILBO sings - washes a couple of pills back with a new ale. The CRATE fishtails. BILBO "One toke over the line, sweet Jesus." GANDALF (muttering to himself) One toke. You poor fool. Wait till you see those goddamn bats. UP AHEAD - AT THE SIDE OF THE DESERTED ROAD A LONE HITCHHIKER spots them, jumps up and sticks out a thumb. The CRATE rocks past. Then, fifty yards down the road... BILBO Let's give that boy a lift. BILBO yanks on the reins - THE CRATE swerves to the side of the road. GANDALF We can't stop here - this is bat country! |
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#246
12-19-2002, 12:45 PM
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"Bugs, Mr Frodo! A million of 'em!" shouted Gamgee as the giant spiders crested the hill....
I'll see if I can write Frodo's Freehold or its ilk (The Ring is a Harsh Mistress, Baggins of Mars, I Will Fear No Nazgul, A Hobbit in the Sky?) a little later. Wouldn't it be great if Gandalf tuened out to be a sexy female computer who wants to be impregnated by Legolas? |
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#249
12-20-2002, 04:56 PM
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Quote:
~Dedicated Anne Reader AkA Jeri |
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#250
12-21-2002, 06:17 AM
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Lord Sauron's Ring by Oscar Wilde
Scene: Bag End Frodo: I cannot read the fiery letters Gandalf: A gentleman should never admit to ignorance, Frodo old boy, it always sounds so trite. The language is that of Mordor but the script is elvish, obviously its just as I expected, you've found Lord Sauron's old trinket. Fiery letters are all the fashion these days, and Lord Sauron always tries SO hard to be fashionable. He fails, I mean, Elvish script? Honestly. Ah, its one of his poems. Sauron always was a dreadful poet, though I will forgive him that. The only thing I cannot forgive in a poet is competence. Frodo: Why did it have to come to me? Gandalf: One should never bemoan recieving gifts, though in th ecase of that gaudy trinket I won't begrudge you your distaste. Frodo: Take it Gandalf! Gandalf: Oh thats hardly fair. Frodo old boy. I can resist anything except temptation. No, the only thing to do is to dispose of the thing. I always use Mt. Doom for such purposes. Obviously a quest awaits you. I myself shall be late, the one thing I love more than a bit of fashionable danger is a bit of fashionable lateness. |
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