Title: The Paddled Periannath Play-by-Play
Author: Ink
Feedback: K
Disclaimer: The copyright has to run out eventually… and then, oh and then…
A/N: I read Dr. Seuss' biography last week and I was tempted to try my hand at a Seuss type poem so I figured what better outlet than Lord of the Rings Fanfiction. Warning, contains spanking. If this bothers you please do not read any further. Thank you!
A ring,
A gold band,
On a chain,
'Round a neck,
Such a small,
Small,
Small thing,
Nothing more than a speck,
In the whole great wide world,
This vast Middle Earth,
Whose multitude of races,
Have enjoyed little mirth,
But now theirs a savior,
A hobbit,
Two pair,
A covey, a gaggle, more than their fair share.
And with them two men,
And a dwarf,
And an elf,
And a wizened old wizard,
It's Gandalf himself.
The thing about hobbits,
Their small, and their swift,
And they dream up such mischief,
Quickly causing a rift.
For the big folk were mad,
With the little one's pranks,
And the hobbits were glad,
For the men gave no thanks,
Thanks for deserting your safe little shire,
And coming out here to trek through the mire,
Day after day, though the outlook is dire,
Hour after hour, with no time to retire,
And your little distractions are crossing that wire,
That makes us take notice, and will raise all our ire.
So what do they do?
These great big huge folk,
With no sense of humor,
And legs like and oak.
Why they pick up a hobbit,
As quick as you please,
And they plunk the poor lad,
Across both of their knees,
Then down come the britches,
But that's not the worst,
No, the air is quite bad,
But only at first.
Because next there's a lecture,
And a hand leaves a back,
The poor bottom quivers,
Waiting for that first whack.
Oh that hand it comes down,
Comes crashing,
Down,
Down,
Down,
Down,
Left behind is a sting,
Right in front is a frown.
Thus the spanking begins,
That most horrific time,
When the punishment starts,
It's a hard uphill climb.
The poor bottom gets hot,
It gets painful and red,
And the unfortunate lad,
Can do nothing but dread.
Until, when the smacking,
Becomes just too much,
And tears aren't enough,
Nor a pant leg to clutch.
Then it's time to let go,
And to beg and to plead,
And to yell that you're sorry,
So they know what you need.
Up off the lap,
Turned around face to face,
And into strong arms,
For a loving embrace.
All is forgiven,
The quest will go on,
A few days from now,
The pain will be gone.
And that's when a hobbit,
Starts thinking up plans,
With the memory of a halfling,
Half as long as a man's.
So it will not be long,
Until the birds in their tree,
Are frightened away,
By a trip on a knee.
And to think such a thing,
Could have had such a start,
With a ring on a chain,
And one hobbit's soft heart.
The End