I don't own the rights to basically any of the characters in this story.
They are all Tolkein's creations. I also don't own the rights to any of the
Beatles' songs or their lyrics, or of anything to do with Cheech and Chong.
Story:
It was a relatively quiet day in the Shire; a new shipment of pipeweed had come in that morning, so most of the hobbits were at the local coffee house snapping their fingers and playing their bongo drums and listening to old records of "I am the Walrus" backwards. An occasional "cool, man" and uncontrollable giggle could be heard wafting out the window along with the clouds of suspicious smoke.
However, the hero of our story, Frodo "so what if I don't really like girls" Baggins, had abstained from all the fun. As usual, Sam, his "special" friend, was at his side in his hobbit hole.
"Well Sam, it looks like it's just you and me for today. The others won't be much good till tomorrow afternoon. What should we do all alone?"
"We could break out the leather and handcuffs and play cops and robbers, you sexy hobbit," Sam mumbled.
"What was that?" Frodo asked, his face noticeably flushed.
"Oh, nothing sir. Why don't we make tea and look at the new Martha Stewart catalog?" Sam answered.
"Ooh, I'll get the crumpets!" Frodo exclaimed.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Frodo skipped to the door, did a pirouette, and opened it to see Gandalf the Grey standing on the front porch.
"Actually, I now go by Gandalf the Sea foam Green. Grey was just such a drab color." With him were a grisly looking dwarf, two men with absurdly greasy hair, one of whom was still very attractive, and a feminine-looking elf.
"Gandalf, you should have called, I'm not in my entertaining clothes," Frodo scolded. "Why don't you go change? I'll help you," Sam said. "Oh, don't be silly. Besides, we don't have enough time for that. Gandalf, why don't you introduce me to your friends?"
One of the men, the less attractive of the two, stepped forward and introduced himself as Boromir, Steward of Gondor. "Does that mean you get to wear the smart little uniforms and serve people coffee and small bottles of liquor?" Sam asked curiously. "Yeah, I'm wearing the uniform now. I hope the horizontal stripes don't make me look fat. It's a tough job, since there are so many attractive men in Gondor, and nearly all of them expect a little more than coffee from me. Of course it's awkward for me, being married and all…"
After Sam and Boromir had gone off to a corner to discuss things, Gimli the dwarf, son of Gloin, stepped forward with Legolas, an elf of Mirkwood. "Hi cutey, I'm Legolas. I'm just a grand archer. Do you like my shoes? This is Gimli the dwarf, he swears he hates me, but I don't believe him."
"I'm Gimli the dwarf, and I really don't like Legolas. All those fruity elves get on my nerves. I am not the least bit ambiguous, thank you very much. My pride in my beard is perfectly normal for a manly dwarf like myself".
Suddenly, two sprightly hobbits with suspiciously bloodshot eyes tumbled through a window. "Are you the eggman, man?" one asked. "No man, he's no egg. He's a fruitcake" the other responded.
"Who are those two stoners, and why are they talking like Cheech and Chong?" Gimli asked oh-so-gruffly.
Frodo explained to them all that the hobbits were none other than Merry and Pippin, fresh from the latest pipeweed convention. Everyone was talking together over tea and crumpets and some cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off that Sam had dug up when suddenly, and quite dramatically, if I do say so myself, the lights went out.
Story:
It was a relatively quiet day in the Shire; a new shipment of pipeweed had come in that morning, so most of the hobbits were at the local coffee house snapping their fingers and playing their bongo drums and listening to old records of "I am the Walrus" backwards. An occasional "cool, man" and uncontrollable giggle could be heard wafting out the window along with the clouds of suspicious smoke.
However, the hero of our story, Frodo "so what if I don't really like girls" Baggins, had abstained from all the fun. As usual, Sam, his "special" friend, was at his side in his hobbit hole.
"Well Sam, it looks like it's just you and me for today. The others won't be much good till tomorrow afternoon. What should we do all alone?"
"We could break out the leather and handcuffs and play cops and robbers, you sexy hobbit," Sam mumbled.
"What was that?" Frodo asked, his face noticeably flushed.
"Oh, nothing sir. Why don't we make tea and look at the new Martha Stewart catalog?" Sam answered.
"Ooh, I'll get the crumpets!" Frodo exclaimed.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Frodo skipped to the door, did a pirouette, and opened it to see Gandalf the Grey standing on the front porch.
"Actually, I now go by Gandalf the Sea foam Green. Grey was just such a drab color." With him were a grisly looking dwarf, two men with absurdly greasy hair, one of whom was still very attractive, and a feminine-looking elf.
"Gandalf, you should have called, I'm not in my entertaining clothes," Frodo scolded. "Why don't you go change? I'll help you," Sam said. "Oh, don't be silly. Besides, we don't have enough time for that. Gandalf, why don't you introduce me to your friends?"
One of the men, the less attractive of the two, stepped forward and introduced himself as Boromir, Steward of Gondor. "Does that mean you get to wear the smart little uniforms and serve people coffee and small bottles of liquor?" Sam asked curiously. "Yeah, I'm wearing the uniform now. I hope the horizontal stripes don't make me look fat. It's a tough job, since there are so many attractive men in Gondor, and nearly all of them expect a little more than coffee from me. Of course it's awkward for me, being married and all…"
After Sam and Boromir had gone off to a corner to discuss things, Gimli the dwarf, son of Gloin, stepped forward with Legolas, an elf of Mirkwood. "Hi cutey, I'm Legolas. I'm just a grand archer. Do you like my shoes? This is Gimli the dwarf, he swears he hates me, but I don't believe him."
"I'm Gimli the dwarf, and I really don't like Legolas. All those fruity elves get on my nerves. I am not the least bit ambiguous, thank you very much. My pride in my beard is perfectly normal for a manly dwarf like myself".
Suddenly, two sprightly hobbits with suspiciously bloodshot eyes tumbled through a window. "Are you the eggman, man?" one asked. "No man, he's no egg. He's a fruitcake" the other responded.
"Who are those two stoners, and why are they talking like Cheech and Chong?" Gimli asked oh-so-gruffly.
Frodo explained to them all that the hobbits were none other than Merry and Pippin, fresh from the latest pipeweed convention. Everyone was talking together over tea and crumpets and some cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off that Sam had dug up when suddenly, and quite dramatically, if I do say so myself, the lights went out.