As much as I deplore the some of the endless repetition that’s been perpetrated here by people who don’t want to read the whole thread, and didn’t want to repeat what anyone else had done myself, I kept thinking that I might be able to do something a trifle more imaginative than the first attempt at “Beavis and Butt-head” LOTR, and the idea just wouldn’t let go until it had beaten me (and the main characters) to death six pages later. Sorry for the length!
P.S. KathleenTheCritic, I’m a tech writer for a living, and I’m finding the same vicarious relief in writing this junk. Writing can be fun! Hooray!
[Two hobbits make their way slowly through FANGORN FOREST. One, named MERRVIS, is paunchy and blond and wears a faded concert vest printed with the name of his favorite bock & bowl band, “ARNOR CARNAGE/GONDOR CARNAGE,” “AC/GC” for short. The other, named PIP-HEAD, is slightly taller and paunchier with curly black hair and a faded vest reading “MITHRILLICA.” They climb to the top of a small rise, sweating and breathing heavily.]
PIP-HEAD: This sucks. We’re, like, lost or something.
MERRVIS: Yeah. Lost. Heh heh. I’m hungry. And, uh, thirsty.
PIP-HEAD: Yeah. Me too. We must have been walking for, like, fifteen whole minutes.
MERRVIS: No lembas nachos…no crystal sodas…
PIP-HEAD: Stop talking about food, dillmunch!
[PIP-HEAD sits down heavily at the crest of the rise. A moment later, MERRVIS does as well.]
MERRVIS: Heh heh. OK. Ummm…OK. [nervous pause] So…when are they gonna come looking for us? I thought Rangers were, you know, supposed to look for lost people or something. And feed bears and stuff.
PIP-HEAD: They’re probably all dead now. Like Toddomir.
MERRVIS: Toddomir’s not dead! He blew his chariot horn real loud, and the ten big orc dudes chased him over the hill, and they came back with his stuff because…he dropped it and drove away to get help.
PIP-HEAD: There’s a word for that, Merrvis. The word is “wishful thinking.”
MERRVIS: Shut up, bungwipe! He drove away. To get help. In his cool chariot. Yeah.
PIP-HEAD: What a cool chariot. <sniffle>
MERRVIS [not crying]: <sniffle> Got something caught in my nose. <sniffle> Ahhhh…big booger or something.
PIP-HEAD [wouldn’t be caught dead crying]: <sniff, sniffle> Yeah, <sniff> me too.
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Regular viewers will remember from our previous episode that Toddomir did not actually die, nor did he go to get help, but instead traded his gear and the two hobbits to his Uruk-homies for a case of orc-draught and five bags of “White Hand white.”]
MERRVIS: This place, is, <sniff> you know, kind of peaceful. <sniffle>
PIP-HEAD: Yeah. <sniff> I’d almost like it, <sniffle> if it had a lot more hot babes and a lot less –
[Before PIP-HEAD can finish his sentence with the word “trees,” they’re suddenly gripped by huge, rough hands like giant branches and lifted into the air.]
SLOW, RUMBLING VOICE: The place is peaceful? You almost like it? Hoom, hmm, I think I almost dislike you, but I don’t want to be hasty.
PIP-HEAD [to MERRVIS]: Dude, did the world just go all goofy on you? I think I’m, like, held up in the air and something really loud is talking to me.
MERRVIS [to PIP-HEAD]: Hm, hm, yeah, that happened for me too. Just now. Maybe that hot stuff the orcs made us drink had some, you know, good stuff in it.
PIP-HEAD [to MERRVIS]: Huh. Huh huh. Yeah. We’re hallucidating. This is cool.
VOICE: What sort of creatures might you be? I need to get a better look.
[The hobbits are turned around to face a giant talking tree.]
PIP-HEAD: Whoa! Now I’m seeing a giant talking tree.
MERRVIS: Yeah! Me too! Giant talking tree. How about that.
TREE: Hmmm, hom, I thought perhaps you were little orcs at first, but perhaps I was mistaken.
MERRVIS: Orcs? Heh heh. No way. We’re hobbits. You know, hobbits. Like when your mom tells you, “Stop that filthy disgusting hobbit! You’ll grow hair on your feet!” Heh, heh heh hm hm.
PIP-HEAD: Huh huh, huh. Merrvis, you, huh, bungweed. We’re high for the first time and you go and tell the dumbest oldest joke ever.
MERRVIS: Hm hm heh heh heh. I thought it was pretty funny, actually.
PIP-HEAD: [to the tree] So, like, what are you supposed to be? [to Merrvis] This kicks butt. We’re probably sitting down there talking to a rock or something.
TREE: Hmmm, well, I am a shepherd of the trees, one of the Onodrim. An Ent, if you will. My full name in the Old Entish is very long; indeed, it grows longer all the time, because it tells the story of my life. But in your hastier language you might call me Fangorn, or Treebeard.
PIP-HEAD: Ummmmmm…
MERRVIS: Errrrrrrrrr…
PIP-HEAD: Treebeard. Right.
MERRVIS: Treebeard. Kinda dumb name for a rock, isn’t it?
[TREEBEARD peers at them intensely.]
TREEBEARD: You hobbits do not seem to possess a great deal of understanding. Yet you wear the garb of Lorien, as if you were favored by the Lady of that land! How did this come to pass?
PIP-HEAD: The Lady! Huh huh huh. Wow. She’s so cool.
MERRVIS: Yeah. Heh heh. Cool. Cool hair. Cool name. Galad…
PIP-HEAD: Galhad…
MERRVIS: Galhadreal.
PIP-HEAD: Yeah. Uh…huhuh huh huh. Thingies. Huh huh huh!
MERRVIS: Heh heh hm hm hm heh! What?
PIP-HEAD: Gal-had-real. The gal had real thingies. Huhuh huh huh huh!
MERRVIS: Hm hm hm hm heh heh heh heh hm hm heh!
PIP-HEAD: I, like, almost saw 'em once? I was looking, like, over an embankment, and she was bending down to pour water in this birdbath or something…? Huh huhuh huhuh huh huh!
[Both hobbits dissolve in sniggers. TREEBEARD gives up on getting anything coherent out of them and starts walking off in huge loping strides, still holding them in his fists.]
TREEBEARD: I think I shall keep you with me until I decide what to do with you.
MERRVIS: Hey! Whoa! AHHH! Stop moving, you stupid…ummm…rock!
PIP-HEAD: Is this what they call a “bad trip”? UuuuUUUUuuuhhh…say hello to my lunch, Merrvis…uUUuuhhhh…here it comes!
MERRVIS: Pip-head, you dillknocker, you better not heave in my direction or I’ll kick you in the nads!
[PIP-HEAD hurls colorfully and, in a miracle of trajectory-matching, gets most of it on MERRVIS. MERRVIS gets a leg free, spies a vulnerable spot unguarded by TREEBEARD’s fingers, and, in another miracle of trajectory-matching, kicks PIP-HEAD in the nads. PIP-HEAD’s eyes roll back and he almost passes out.]
MERRVIS: Heh heh heh. Dipweed. Told you not to eat that meat the orcs were handing out. [picks a long, bony chunk out of his hair] I think they fed you something’s finger. Heh heh.
PIP-HEAD [gasping for breath]: I thought…<wheeze>…it was…<wheeze>…a corn dog…<wheeze>…on a stick!
MERRVIS: Cool! Hm hm heh heh heh! [to himself] They gave him the finger. Heh heh heh!
[Time passes. PIP-HEAD eventually gets over his Entsickness and traumatized nads and returns to his usual self.]
PIP-HEAD: Ummm…where are we headed, uh, Freebeer? You’ve been walking for, like, fifteen whole minutes.
TREEBEARD: I am walking to one of my homes, near the heart of the wood.
MERRVIS: Hm hm. He said “wood.”
PIP-HEAD: Such a (huh huh) long way…this must be a (huh huh huh) major wood. Huhuh huhuh huh huh!
TREEBEARD: Indeed. Of all the wooded regions that have been standing tall since the dawn of time, this is the biggest wood of all.
[PIP-HEAD and MERRVIS dissolve in sniggers. TREEBEARD ignores this.]
TREEBEARD [sadly]: But now the trees are being felled wantonly. The forest is in mourning.
PIP-HEAD: So it’s a (huhuh! huhuh huh huh!) mourning wood! (Huh huh huh!)
[More sniggers. TREEBEARD continues gamely.]
TREEBEARD: There is both sadness and anger here. Many of the trees have become Ent-ish, and they are all in a dark mood, cloaked in shadow. Dangerous. We call them Huorns.
PIP-HEAD: Huorns! Huh huhuh huhuh huh! So we need to stay away from the (huhuh huhuh huh!) trees that are (huh huh!) all Huorny and stuff.
TREEBEARD: You must understand…once there was friendship between Ent and tree, man, bird, and beast. But now men cut the trees and don’t burn them, and birds pluck their fruit only to throw it down. Why, even the woodpeckers prick the bark only to drill an empty hole.
MERRVIS: Heh heheh! He said…he said…hm hm hm hm! Hm heheh hm hm hm heh heh!!
PIP-HEAD: Huhuh huh huhuh huhuh!! Yeah! The rock has a potty mouth! Huhuh huh huh huh! Cool…
[Sniggering continues for a full minute.]
PIP-HEAD: Huh huh! Freebeer, can we get some food? I tossed my biscuits back there and I’m, like, starving. Is there a McGrubbses walk-through window open nearby?
TREEBEARD: There is no prepared man-food for thousands of Ent-strides in any direction. But…
[He stops momentarily at a prolific early berry patch, puts the hobbits on his shoulder, and picks them what to an Ent is a tiny pinch of berries, i.e., several quarts.]
TREEBEARD: …you can eat these. I caution you – they are very sweet. You will want something to wash them down, but fortunately we are very close to my home now…
PIP-HEAD [tries a few]: I’m not (munch munch) eating these, they’re, like, (munch munch) natural…ummm…hey, uhhhh…
MERRVIS [with a huge mouthful]: Ummm, nob bab, acshuawwy.
[TREEBEARD steps into his home. It’s grown out of, or into, the side of a hill, with high vaulting trees for a ceiling. He sets the hobbits down.]
PIP-HEAD [his mouth hanging open, exposing half-chewed berries]: We’re not in the Shire any more, Merrvis.
TREEBEARD: In your tongue, this would be called Wellinghall. Now I shall attend to that drink I promised you.
PIP-HEAD: Uh, drink? Huh huh. You mean, like…[conspiratorially]…the hard stuff?
TREEBEARD [puzzled]: It is not a hard thing to prepare or consume.
PIP-HEAD: So…huh huh…you make it yourself…huhuh huh!..but it’s, you know, smoooooooth?!
TREEBEARD: I think you’ll find it pleasant. And strange things happen to mortals who drink Ent-draughts filled with the nourishment of all growing things – sometimes they grow, too.
[TREEBEARD walks into a back room.]
PIP-HEAD: Huhuh huhuh huh huh! You hear that, Merrvis? It’s not just smooth homebrew – it’ll (huh huh huh!) make us grow!! This is cool – we’re finally gonna score… Merrvis? Merrvis?! You dillwipe!
[Since before TREEBEARD walked into Wellinghall, MERRVIS has been scarfing berries. His entire lower face is now stained purple and his eyes are bugged out. He has pulled his vest up over the back of his head and is holding his arms in the air.]
MERRVIS: I AM NO LONGER THE WOMAN YOU KNEW – I AM DERNHELMIO!! I NEED TP FOR MY BUNGHOLE!!
[TREEBEARD returns to the main room with bowls of a green glowing substance. He looks askance at MERRVIS.]
TREEBEARD [to PIP-HEAD]: Is something wrong with the other one?
MERRVIS: DERNHELMIO RIDES TO MINAS TP…I HAVE COME FOR YOUR BUNGHOLE!!
PIP-HEAD: He’s, like, tripping out. I’ll (huh huh!) take his share.
[TREEBEARD hands him one of the bowls. He chugs it, then spits it out, spraying in every direction.]
PIP-HEAD: THHFFFFTHHHHP! What is this crap?! It tastes like plain water! Only a tree would drink that!!
MERRVIS: TREES! ARE YOU THREATENING ME?! I SHALL CUT DOWN ALL YOUR TREES TO MAKE TP FOR MY BUNG –
SPLAT
TREEBEARD [surveying the wet spots that remain on his floor when he lifts up his foot]: So they were little orcs after all. Too bad.
[Inside the HALLS OF MANDOS, the disembodied spirits of MERRVIS and PIP-HEAD tarry for a time before leaving the world.]
MERRVIS: Hey, look, Pip-Head. I can put my hand up my nose and stick my fingers out through my eyeballs. Heh, heh heh!
PIP-HEAD: Huh huh, huh. You know what this means, Merrvis? When we finally come down from this high, we need to, like, find those orcs and get more of that stuff.
MERRVIS: Yeah! More! Heheh hm hm hm heh heh!
THE END (at last!)
