"My, my, Samwise, it sure is hot today," Frodo cooed as he sipped on his on his mint julep. He was wearing a gigantic hat, merrily festooned with all sorts of silk flowers, fake birds, and accompanying birds' nests and eggs.

"Yes, August sure is a hot month," Sam replied. They were sitting on rocking chairs on their front porch.

"August? I thought it was May. I dressed up for the Kentucky Derby for nothing?"

"Kentucky Derby? That was months ago. And we live in Tennesee."

"Look, Sam. Do you think I wore this hat for no reason?"

"You often wear awful things for no reason. I just thought you were in one of those moods."

"Moods? Are you calling me moody?"

"No, Fro-Fro. You are the least moody person I know."

"Really? Do you mean that, Samwise?"

"Of course."

"Now let's go to that horse race!"

"There's a greyhound track a few miles up the highway. We can go to that."

"Whatever, we can't let this fabulous hat go to waste. No let's get a-goin'!"

On the short, three-mile walk to the track — Frodo and Sam's car, the Frodo and Sam Mobile, was in the shop after Sam saw somebody brush the rear bumper in a freak accident at the Tennessee El Camino Convention — several birds attempted to nest in Frodo's hat. "Go away you awful birds go away!" he said in one breath with absolutely no commas as he attempted to bat away a pelican. "Oh, why is this happening in me?"

"No idea," Sam spelunked.

At the track, Frodo began to compulsively adjust his waistcoat, which Sam colloquially called a weskit. Its color reminded Sam of butterscotch pudding. "I think I'll make butterscotch pudding tonight," he sputtered aloud like a freight train.

"You do that, honey," Frodo encouraged. "Now, can we put some money on a dog, or what?" Frodo resumed adjusting his waistcoat so that the cute clerk at the place-bets window would see. Frodo winked; the clerk closed the window.

"Maybe you're so hot because you're wearing that stupid weskit."

"Waistcoat, Sam. What is this, Merry Old Jolly Good Englandville?"

"Let's just pick a dog. How does 'The Last Alliance of Elves and Men' sound to you?"

"I don't know. I kind of want a dog who sounds like a winner. What do you think of 'Pitzy?' "

"Sounds awful."

"Well, who should we vote on?"

"Bet?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"I'm going to bet on 'Last Alliance of Elves and Men.' You can bet on Pitzy."

"Fine, I'll vote on Pitz-ay," Frodo ridiculed.

Four hours later, Sam had lost $40,000 and Frodo had won $19.99. "Honestly. Who bets 99 cents?" Sam stormed.

"I do. That's who," Frodo retorted angrily. "Let's just get out of here before you lose any more money on that stupid Pitzy you keep voting on."

"I'm not even going to bother correcting you."

"Fine, don't. I don't care."

"Just then a flock of seagulls decided to make it's home in Frodo's hat. Frodo reacted by swatting at them angrily until one bit his hand. Blood and feathers was flying everywhere.

Back at home, Frodo collapsed onto the chaise lounge in the living room. "Oh!" he gasped. "I'm in such pain!"

"It's just a little scrape," Sam futzed.

"Excuse me, but have you ever been attacked by a seagull? It was dreadful!" Frodo began to writhe around. "My beautiful, beautiful face!" he cried. "And also, my beautiful hat!" Frodo had eventually managed to get the seagulls to leave him alone, but they had made off with his hat in revenge. "And I had all that awful hat hair," he babbled. "Do you think you could drive me into town tomorrow? I want to stop at Grima Wormtongue's Bait, Tackle, and Milliner."

"Okay," Sam pleasantly agreed. "I could use a few more lures."

"When was the last time you went fishing?" Frodo asked.

"Four summers ago."

"So, if you never go fishing, why buy new lures?"

"Duh," Sam drooped. "I never go fishing because I don't have any new lures." He was going to say something about also stopping at the pawn shop, but then he decided to go through the mail, which Frodo had neglected to sort that morning, choosing instead to put on a small fashion show, the byproducts of which were actually still littering the living room. In fact, Sam realized that he was standing on one of Frodo's polos.

Sam left Frodo to writhe on the couch and went into the kitchen. The first envelope was from the gas company. "Bill," Sam droned. "Bill, bill, bill, bill, bill. Ah!" He gasped in joy, throwing all the mail but this one letter aside.

"What?" Frodo called from the other room.

"You will never guess who's getting married!" Sam shouted back.

"Is it Merry and Pippin? I knew they would be getting married. They've been talking about it for years."

"No. It's our old cook, Gollum. He's marrying your best girlfriend in the world, Shelob."

"WHAT!? I didn't even know they were dating. This is crazy."

"I know. I thought she was a lesbian."

"She's not a lesbian. She's just picky. Wow, Gollum and Shelob. I never saw that coming."

"Did they meet at our place?"

"They must have met at one of our fancy parties. I have to call her right now!"

"I guess we have to go to the wedding now."

"Not necessarily," Frodo corrected, shaking one long, slender, pale finger.

The next day, Frodo went drove up to the Dillard's in downtown Chattanooga, which was where Shelob and Gollum were registered. Sam, always the enterprising entrepreneur, opted out of going to Dillard's and into going to work. Sam worked at Grima Wormtongue's House of Tax Returns. Sam had graduated from Chuthers University the previous July, and now was the 49th most successful tax attorney in Tennessee.

Frodo had whined at Sam a lot when he found out that Sam wasn't taking the newly repaired El Camino into town. "I don't want to go to Dillard's alone!" He cried. "With whom will I have sex in the dressing rooms?"

"Frodo, I hate doing that. It's always so embarrassing to get arrested by store security."

"Fine! I'll have sex in the dressing rooms by myself!"

"Okay, you do that."

"Fine, I will!"

"Go ahead."

"Okay!"

"I'm glad we agree!"

"Me too." Frodo was secretly furious.

At the store, Frodo approached the woman in gift registry. "Hi," he said, taking off his aviators and sexily putting them on his head.

"Hello, sir," said Hello My Name Is: Briana How May I Help You Today. "Welcome to Dillard's. How may I help you today?"

"My friends are registered here."

"Okay, sir, what are their names?"

"Shelob and Gollum," Frodo nonchalanted.

"And do they have last names?"

"No."

"So, just Shelob and Gollum."

"You got it," Frodo confirmed.

"All right, just a moment." She typed some shit in. "All right, their registry will print out in just a moment." Four hours later, Frodo had purchased a delightful eggplant denim jacket, four pairs of 2(x)ist bikini briefs (they were on sale), and a gold trimmed goblet that Shelob and Gollum had registered for. "Oh, that Shelob, she sure loves those goblets," Frodo thought to himself as he walked to the parking lot. Before he got to his car he was stopped by mall security.

"Excuse me, sir," the tall, lean security guard with long brown hair said as he put his hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"Can I help you?" Frodo asked innocently as he batted his eyelashes playfully.

"I think I need to arrest you."

"Oh yeah, what for?"

"For being too hot, of course." Officer Elrond winked.

"Oh, that kind of arrest." Frodo nodded knowledgably. "You know, I think you do. Do you have handcuffs?"

"Sure do," Elrond drawled, reaching behind him and grabbing a pair of handcuffs. "Put your hands in front of you."

"Oooh," Frodo cooed.

Security Chief Elrond led Frodo to a paddy wagon. "We're going to have sex in a paddy wagon!" Frodo exclaimed. "Oh, this is so hot. I'm totally dripping."

"Well, don't drip on my pants," Elrond sternly warned. "They're rentals. I have to return them to the security office at the end of the day."

"Rented uniforms are so hot," Frodo blathered.

"Sam!" Frodo called out as he stepped back into the house after a hard day's work having sex in a paddy wagon. "I'm home!"

"Great!" Sam called back. "I'm in my office!" Frodo went to Sam's office, where he was filing some important papers in filing cabinets, all of which were full of files. "So, did you get something nice for Shelob and Gollum?"

"Yeah, I got them an ashtray."

"An ashtray?"

"Or something, whatever. Listen, I totally cheated on you again."

"You did?" Sam asked, not looking up from his papers.

"Yeah, I did. And we totally didn't use condoms. Now I'm going to give you herpes."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you sure you don't mind, shnookerkins?" Frodo cracked.

"We've had this discussion before, Frodo. We're in an open relationship. I cheated on you too while you were out."

"WHAT!? You? Sam, you never cheat."

"What's the big deal? You left the toilet clogged so I had to call the plumber, and he was hot so we got it on."

"I can't believe this. My world is turned upside down."

"But we did use condoms."

"Well, at least you did that."

"Yeah."

THE END.