A/N: Due to the fact that I am on vacation and am desperately bored, I am going to do a series of satirical Lord of the Rings short sketches. In other words, I'm avoiding homework and don't know what's coming next it my Marauder fic. Wish me luck. Note: MOST CHARACTERS WILL END UP LOOKING STUPID. SUCH IS THE NATURE OF THIS FIC. DEAL WITH IT, PLEASE. It is just my personal taste that I prefer dumb hobbit jokes to gay hobbit jokes.

Chapter One: The Lady of the Rings

            The two hobbits were tired, hungry, thirsty, and on the brink of death. They had fought Gollum off, and presumed him dead, and they trudged up the final leg of mouth doom. The mouth of the desolate volcano and the meaning for all they had gone through thus far awaited them. Suddenly, Sam was able to pick out a hazy silhouette against the horizon, standing at the edge of the fiery mouth. At first he was sure it was merely delusion kicking in due to lack of food, but as they drew closer he began to realize his eyes were in fact in perfect working order.

            "Master Frodo!" he exclaimed. "It's Rosie Cotton!"

            "Very clever, boys. May I just offer my congratulations on having made it as far as you did. Really, I'm impressed."

            "But Rosie, how did you get here so quickly? And why?"

            "Oh, don't worry your precious little head about that, Sam. I suggest you worry about Frodo."

            Frodo was curled up in a little ball, eyes wide, stroking the ring of power. "My precious," he was whispering. "Oh how I love my precious!"

            Rosie rolled her eyes, then reverted to a brusque, business-like manner. "Well, Sam, just hand me the ring and this will all work out for the best."

            "What?!" Sam exclaimed, so surprised he nearly stumbled back, which would have led to him tumbling down the side of Mount Doom.

            Once again, Rosie rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to steal it, I'm just going to drop it in for you. Don't be daft, Sam, just hand me the ring."

            Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're different, Rosie."

            The other hobbit (Frodo was too busy staring at his precious to count) dawned what one could almost call a mad gleam in her eyes. "Different, aye?" She began. "What, in that I'm not mindlessly serving you men? That I'm taking my fate into my own hands? That I'm not batting my eyelids at every fat, ugly customer coming my way? DIFFERENT?" She finally roared, then smiled sweetly and seemed to shrink back to her usual size. "No, don't be silly, Sam," she giggled in a girlish manner. "I'm not different at all!"

            "Err... All right then… Here." Sam wrenched the ring out of Frodo's feeble grasp, and holding him back by the forehead with one hand as Frodo made pathetic swings at him in an attempt to regain his prize, Sam tossed the ring to this new, slightly intimidating Rosie.

            "At last! It is mine!" Rosie cackled instantly.

            "Hey!" Sam yelled, surprised, "You promised you'd throw it down there for us!"

            "Did I?" Rosie asked with fake innocence. "Well then, I guess that would mean I LIED, doesn't it?"

            As Sam sat down and began to cry, ignoring the fact that Frodo was banging him on the head with both fists.

"Aww, poor ickle Sammykins." Rosie continued. "Is he going boo-hoo? Does he not understand why his sweet Rosie-posie is doing this to him?" Here Sam gave a pitiful nod, his lower lip extended. "Well, I'll explain then, shall I? It's all fine and dandy for you main characters. You get songs written about you. You get whole chapters, dedicated to none but you! Everyone ignores the background characters. No one cares about us. We're just there to support you, after all! Not even sure if we won't get cut once it gets made into a movie! Well, frankly, I have just about had enough. It's time I take a stand. And if I die after a page, at least I won't have to marry some stupid, fat hobbit and have THIRTEEN CHILDREN WITH HIM! But look at me now! I hold the ring of power in my hands! I have already bound Sauron to my will. Yes indeed, I bet you didn't know your darling Rosie had that much power, did you, Sammy? Maybe because you DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL! No one does! Not Tolkien, not the readers, and not Peter Jackson! But soon you all will! Oooooooh yes, sooner than you think! When I RULE THE WORLD!" Here Rosie began to cackly manically. Sam cowered, Frodo pounded, and even Mount Doom quaked in terror of the great Rosie Cotton.

Perhaps it quaked a little too hard.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Echoed Rosie's cry as she lost her footing and plunged to a fiery grave, carrying the ring along with her. Fortunately, with the destruction of the ring, Frodo was instantly cured. He promptly stood up, dusted off his orc battlewear, and helped Sam to his feet. With one backwards glance at where the love of his life and an object of ultimate evil had both met their demise, Sam turned to his old companion and gardening employer and said, "Master Frodo, let's go home."