Hi. Have a seat on that rock over there...ouch! Not that one, you ugly twerp, the other one. I know it's dark, but you don't have to sit on me just because you can't see...have some courtesy! My name's Gollum. Welcome to my cave. No flash photography, please. Nice to meet you. Don't even ask it...don't even think about asking it...I'm not dead. That's just some completely bogus story printed on the front of the Middle-Earth Enquirer. They're always telling complete and utter lies about sexy supermodels like me. What? You can't see me? Too bad. Yeah, I know it's dark in here. That's the way I likes--like it. Sorry. Sometimes the old pattern of speech comes back to us--me. There it goes again.
Anyway, you want to know the real story of what happened when I took that supposedly deadly fall? Well, I found out three things.
A. Frodo's finger needed salt. Sorry, but it was a little bland, though maybe a little mayo would do the trick. I really do prefer fish to fingers any day. Yeah, I disembowel fish for every meal, but that's off-topic.
B. I'm a lot tougher than magic rings, even the Precious. Nyah.
C. There's this really cool organization down there. It's called The Club For Individuals Who Fell Off Cliffs At Least Once.
I have a bunch of friends in the TCFIWFOCALO, including the Balrog, Gandalf, Wile E. Coyote, and Mufasa from The Lion King.
That's where I met the Balrog. He's a really nice guy, actually, but he says he'd prefer Khazad-dûm to Mordor anytime. He's a little stiff with Gandalf, and vice versa, but I'm sure they'll warm up to each other in time. The Balrog thinks that whole "You shall not pass" thing was a little crummy, and I agree with him there, though Gandalf has a good point that the Balrog DIDN'T pay his toll, after all. Unless you're one of the Nine, you can't leave Moria without paying a fee. Gandalf is very definite on that point.
Does my breath stink? Okay, I'll scoot back a little bit. That better? Yeah. I take baths in swampy pools of bubbling mud. No, I don't like it.
Nice reporter gets Jacuzzi for poor Sméagol?
Sorry. It's worked in the past.
Anyway, I was listening to obviously false stories from Mufasa (hyenas...gimme a break!) when I decided that I'd better go looking for those "nasty hobbitses" with that awful stinging rope and the putrid lembas of theirs. After all, the mean one had made me really mad, and the relatively nice one was bossy. I'm still looking for them. They're short, a bit on the stout side, and they have hair on their feet. They look a lot like I used to look before all the cosmetic surgery, which really did come out well, don't you think?
Do you agree that I should wear sequins? Sounds like a good idea to me, except that I may drizzle fish guts all over the front, which would really spoil the style.
Yes, I live in a cave. Yes, I'm in a book called the Two Towers, though I don't see what that has to do with anything. Yeah, I'm a murderer. Wouldn't you be if your cousin had a ring tha---What do you mean, I'm Osama bin Laden in disguise? Who's Osama bin Laden, anyway? You make no sense. What's that you're pulling out of your pocket?
Oh, it's a cell phone. I've been wanting a phone for a long time...just to order a pizza, mind you. A beer and a pizza, with extra anchovies. Raw. I like my anchovies raw. No, you aren't calling Middle-earth Pizza Delivery? Who are you calling? The FBI, you say? Who's that?
What's this about a bomb? Where is it? WHAT---AHHHHHHH!!
*** Reporter: This was the end of my conversation with Gollum. I would have liked to visit with him more, but there was a slight...interruption. Fortunately, he suffered only minor injuries and is in the hospital demanding swamp-water IVs and covering his eyes with his filthy black hands. He still has not found those "hobbits" he is looking for, and medical experts guess that he may be stark raving mad. This is Reporter, out. ***
Anyway, you want to know the real story of what happened when I took that supposedly deadly fall? Well, I found out three things.
A. Frodo's finger needed salt. Sorry, but it was a little bland, though maybe a little mayo would do the trick. I really do prefer fish to fingers any day. Yeah, I disembowel fish for every meal, but that's off-topic.
B. I'm a lot tougher than magic rings, even the Precious. Nyah.
C. There's this really cool organization down there. It's called The Club For Individuals Who Fell Off Cliffs At Least Once.
I have a bunch of friends in the TCFIWFOCALO, including the Balrog, Gandalf, Wile E. Coyote, and Mufasa from The Lion King.
That's where I met the Balrog. He's a really nice guy, actually, but he says he'd prefer Khazad-dûm to Mordor anytime. He's a little stiff with Gandalf, and vice versa, but I'm sure they'll warm up to each other in time. The Balrog thinks that whole "You shall not pass" thing was a little crummy, and I agree with him there, though Gandalf has a good point that the Balrog DIDN'T pay his toll, after all. Unless you're one of the Nine, you can't leave Moria without paying a fee. Gandalf is very definite on that point.
Does my breath stink? Okay, I'll scoot back a little bit. That better? Yeah. I take baths in swampy pools of bubbling mud. No, I don't like it.
Nice reporter gets Jacuzzi for poor Sméagol?
Sorry. It's worked in the past.
Anyway, I was listening to obviously false stories from Mufasa (hyenas...gimme a break!) when I decided that I'd better go looking for those "nasty hobbitses" with that awful stinging rope and the putrid lembas of theirs. After all, the mean one had made me really mad, and the relatively nice one was bossy. I'm still looking for them. They're short, a bit on the stout side, and they have hair on their feet. They look a lot like I used to look before all the cosmetic surgery, which really did come out well, don't you think?
Do you agree that I should wear sequins? Sounds like a good idea to me, except that I may drizzle fish guts all over the front, which would really spoil the style.
Yes, I live in a cave. Yes, I'm in a book called the Two Towers, though I don't see what that has to do with anything. Yeah, I'm a murderer. Wouldn't you be if your cousin had a ring tha---What do you mean, I'm Osama bin Laden in disguise? Who's Osama bin Laden, anyway? You make no sense. What's that you're pulling out of your pocket?
Oh, it's a cell phone. I've been wanting a phone for a long time...just to order a pizza, mind you. A beer and a pizza, with extra anchovies. Raw. I like my anchovies raw. No, you aren't calling Middle-earth Pizza Delivery? Who are you calling? The FBI, you say? Who's that?
What's this about a bomb? Where is it? WHAT---AHHHHHHH!!
*** Reporter: This was the end of my conversation with Gollum. I would have liked to visit with him more, but there was a slight...interruption. Fortunately, he suffered only minor injuries and is in the hospital demanding swamp-water IVs and covering his eyes with his filthy black hands. He still has not found those "hobbits" he is looking for, and medical experts guess that he may be stark raving mad. This is Reporter, out. ***