The 21st Ring
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for Sauron's cousin Bob the Bad,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
"No, no, no!" an agonized hobbit exclaimed as he beat his forehead over the parchment scroll that he was attempting to translate into his own language for his new book. "It just won't work! There's no way I can put in all this Bob the Bad nonsense in here. Not only does it completely wreck the tone of this poem, it's just plain strange. I'm sure no one will care if I just cross this line here out." The pen made a satisfying skitch- scatch across his paper as he scribbled over all memory of the twenty-first ring. "It sounds like some kind of twisted elvish joke, anyway," he mumbled to himself contentedly, "Probably not very important, that Bob- ring, even if it ever did exist, which I doubt. And besides, what you don't know won't hurt you."
How wrong he was.
Ages later, Tolkien (who I don't own) discovered this hobbit's story (which I don't own) and made his own translation, which he called *The Lord of The Rings* (I don't own that, either). All memory of Bob and his ring was lost. So when a strange looking man appeared on the streets of a small Canadian city trying to hawk a Ring of Power, all he got were some incredulous looks and a toonie thrown into his coffee cup, which was full at the time. Discouraged and slightly splashed by the experience, he prepared to head back to wherever it was that he came from. It was then that he noticed the large, ugly building with mysterious lettering across the front and large numbers of people streaming out of it. If he had been able to read, which he couldn't, he would have noticed the sign reading "Now Playing: The Two Towers" (sadly, yet another thing in this world that I don't own). But even though he couldn't read, he was attracted to the crowd, and hoped that somewhere here would be someone stupid enough to accept the offer that he would make.
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for Sauron's cousin Bob the Bad,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
"No, no, no!" an agonized hobbit exclaimed as he beat his forehead over the parchment scroll that he was attempting to translate into his own language for his new book. "It just won't work! There's no way I can put in all this Bob the Bad nonsense in here. Not only does it completely wreck the tone of this poem, it's just plain strange. I'm sure no one will care if I just cross this line here out." The pen made a satisfying skitch- scatch across his paper as he scribbled over all memory of the twenty-first ring. "It sounds like some kind of twisted elvish joke, anyway," he mumbled to himself contentedly, "Probably not very important, that Bob- ring, even if it ever did exist, which I doubt. And besides, what you don't know won't hurt you."
How wrong he was.
Ages later, Tolkien (who I don't own) discovered this hobbit's story (which I don't own) and made his own translation, which he called *The Lord of The Rings* (I don't own that, either). All memory of Bob and his ring was lost. So when a strange looking man appeared on the streets of a small Canadian city trying to hawk a Ring of Power, all he got were some incredulous looks and a toonie thrown into his coffee cup, which was full at the time. Discouraged and slightly splashed by the experience, he prepared to head back to wherever it was that he came from. It was then that he noticed the large, ugly building with mysterious lettering across the front and large numbers of people streaming out of it. If he had been able to read, which he couldn't, he would have noticed the sign reading "Now Playing: The Two Towers" (sadly, yet another thing in this world that I don't own). But even though he couldn't read, he was attracted to the crowd, and hoped that somewhere here would be someone stupid enough to accept the offer that he would make.