Disclaimer: I pinched all the characters and places from Tolkien.
Lord of the Sleaze 7
Note to Everyone: Just like to say thanks to everyone who reads, reviews and enjoys this. Comforting (or disturbing) to know that other people find my insane world at least mildly amusing…
The Bong of Hazard-Doom
With a drunken shrieking, a band of Orcs stumbled through the door behind them, armed to the teeth with scimitars and axes. Behind them lumbered a gigantic Cave Troll, clutching an evil looking club and wearing a tattered t-shirt bearing the legend 'Masturbation is not a Crime'. They stared in surprise at the Fellowship who had all tried to cram themselves behind the toilet bowl with limited success.
'This cubicle's taken,' called Aragorn hopefully as the war band moved in on them menacingly. It didn't slow them down. Gandalf decided to try and salvage the situation, and arose from his undignified position of lying on top of Gimli.
'Go on Gandalf,' cheered the Hobbits as the wizard advanced upon the snarling servants of Sauron, and held their breath as he stood before them. To their collective surprise, he suddenly prostrated himself before their enemies, and grovelled pathetically before them.
'Please don't kill me, I'll do anything you want, I've got nothing to do with these others, they forced me to come with them. I love Sauron and all his friends. Please spare my humble life…'
He began whimpering and kissing the boots of the lead Orc, who laughed and trod on his head.
'You traitorous bastard,' screamed Boromir and threw himself at the Orcs with a Gondorian battle cry. 'I SURRENDER!'
That was all the others needed and they drew their swords, and waded into the fray, laying out Orcs left, right and centre. Seeing the untimely demise of his comrades, the Cave Troll turned and fled with a squeal of fear. The Fellowship admired their handy-work, as Gandalf stepped out from behind a pillar.
'Well done,' he smiled. 'It seems my diversion worked!'
The rest of them looked at him doubtfully, respect for their valiant leader reaching an all time low.
They ran on into the depths of Moria, with Gandalf notably bringing up the rear. As they charged headlong down the tunnels, they became aware of a reverberating beat upon the air that appeared to grow louder and louder until the Hobbits clasped their ears in pain. A turn in the passage lay ahead from which there emanated a dull red glow and tendrils of smoke wafted from out of sight. Gandalf strode forward in an attempt to recover lost face, and peered around the corner. He quickly returned grinning wildly.
'I can see the door,' he whispered excitedly, sliding a new clip into his AK-47. 'We've got to make a dash for it – if anyone gets left behind, then they're er…on their own.'
He turned his back on them and ran like a thing possessed.
Frodo clasped the weed in his pocket and turned the corner. The sight that met his eyes filled him with dread, and almost stopped him in his tracks. A huge ghetto blaster occupied the entire end of the room, pumping out the hardest in underground hip-hop. The packed host of Orcs, bedecked in bandannas and gold chains were bouncing around the mighty cavern, while a giant Cave Troll break-danced in the centre. Marijuana smoke filled the lair, and a vast rotating disco ball reflected the glowing red of a thousand lighted joints. Gandalf was already halfway to the exit, darting from pillar to pillar, the light from his staff lost in the melee. But it was not all this that filled the Hobbit with deep terror. Lording over the volume knob of the stereo was a giant figure, black as the coldest night, seemingly wreathed in smoke and flame, eyes smouldering red and bloodshot. In one hand, it held a cocktail of many spirits and the other held the largest and most evil looking bong Frodo had ever seen. As he stared, the creature lifted it to its lips and took a large hit, a blaze of fire illuminating everything with a bright crimson.
'Aiiyeee!!!' screamed Legolas, his elvish cool miraculously evaporating. 'A Balrog!!!'
'Durin's bollocks!!' roared Gimli, doubling his running speed to about that of a lame tortoise.
The entire room turned and caught the Fellowship in the act of hightailing it to the bridge leading to their freedom. They were well out of range and escape should have been easy, were it not for a sudden booming voice, which echoed mockingly behind them.
'Why, if it isn't Gandalf the Grey – the wizard who cannot take his chronic. Better not stay in here too long, we might have to get the ambulance like last time.'
The Orcs howled with laughter. Gandalf froze in his tracks, his face contorted with rage, while the rest of the Fellowship fled across the bridge and turned to watch him from the other side. Gandalf remained standing halfway across the bridge, but now he had turned to face his foe, who strode forward, still brandishing the enormous bong, and seemed to grow to fill the cavern with darkness and malice.
'Saruman was here the other day, and he smoked TWICE as much as you managed,' the creature continued to gloat. The Orcs rolled on the ground with helpless laughter. 'Radagast came here last week and smoked our ENTIRE SUPPLY! Its time to prove you're a man…'
Once again, the Balrog held out the smoking bong towards the quaking wizard.
'Mother of Morgoth!!' exclaimed Aragorn loudly. 'Its 'ffukyo-up!!''
'What?' exclaimed Sam, awestruck.
'Every bong that was made by the elves was given an elvish name. Look,' he said, drawing his own grubby bong from his trousers - and then taking out his his dope smoking device, 'mine is called 'smokintooa koma'. It was thought that 'ffukyo-up' was lost many years ago by Celeborn after a particularly heavy drinking session.'
On the bridge, Gandalf was now holding the bong in a shaky grip as the Balrog leant down and sparked it. He took a huge hit, smoke gushing from his nose which he managed to magically sculpt into a likeness of Bilbo Baggins getting bitch-slapped by Elrond. It was the most impressive work of sorcery that the Fellowship had ever seen him do.
'He cannot smoke alone,' yelled Boromir valiantly and waited for someone else to make a move. Gandalf stumbled to his knees but did not fall, instead holding out the blackened rod to the Balrog looming above him.
'Your turn,' he choked, turning to give the thumbs up to the waiting band. The Balrog looked confused at the wizard's failure to collapse at his feet and loaded the bong afresh, handing Gandalf the lighter to spark it. Suddenly, things happened very quickly. From his pocket, Gandalf whipped out a quarter he'd 'borrowed' from Frodo's One Weed, and stuffed it into the bowl. Then as the unsuspecting Balrog readied himself, he raised his staff above his head and screamed in elvish.
'YO…KANOT…PAASS-IT!!' and with that he ignited the bowl in a blaze of red fire. The mighty figure shuddered; smoke pouring over and around its horned head. Its eyes bulged wildly and in trying to take a step back, tripped on one of its gold chains and flailed madly on the brink of the precipice. Then, with a final panicked scream, it toppled forwards into the depths of Moria. The Fellowship cheered its approval as Gandalf rose to his feet and attempted a bow on the narrow bridge. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated just how high he was. Still wearing the smile of someone who doesn't really know what's happening, his bow turned into the glorious forward-roll off the edge where he disappeared into the darkness.
'NOOO!!' screamed Frodo, realising the company had lost its leader and spiritual guidance.
'NOOO!!' hollered Aragorn, remembering he had leant Gandalf his complete Burt Bacherach collection.
'NOOO!!' bellowed Gimli, remembering the wizard had still owed him 25 pence.
'NOOO!!' minced Legolas, recalling that Gandalf had borrowed his only comb to get chewing gum out of his beard.
'NOOO!!' squealed Merry and Pippin, remembering he had promised to buy them both a night of unadulterated pleasure with Galadriel when they reached Lothlorien.
'NOOO!!' moaned Sam, realising that Gandalf had been 'looking after' all of his remaining jazz mags.
'NOOO!!' roared Boromir, partly because everyone else was yelling and he felt left out, and partly because as the Balrog had fallen, it had spilt its drink, which was now pouring from the bridge in a torrent.
Then, as a whole, they turned and ran for the door, the cleansing wash of sunlight pretty soon alleviating their woes. They stood at the top of an oddly familiar dale, and turning to their left they saw a road leading directly to the House of Elrond, about a quarter of a mile away. They could even see Elrond himself, frolicking with a couple of playgirls in an outdoor Jacuzzi.
'You know…Gandalf was a bit of loser, wasn't he,' announced Sam.
The rest shrugged, shouldered their packs and marched on towards the east. The air was warm, the sky clear and a large sign ahead read 'Lothlorien – The Birthplace of Vice – 10 miles.' They all broke into a jog.
Coming Soon – Lothlorien or 'Bust'.
Lord of the Sleaze 7
Note to Everyone: Just like to say thanks to everyone who reads, reviews and enjoys this. Comforting (or disturbing) to know that other people find my insane world at least mildly amusing…
The Bong of Hazard-Doom
With a drunken shrieking, a band of Orcs stumbled through the door behind them, armed to the teeth with scimitars and axes. Behind them lumbered a gigantic Cave Troll, clutching an evil looking club and wearing a tattered t-shirt bearing the legend 'Masturbation is not a Crime'. They stared in surprise at the Fellowship who had all tried to cram themselves behind the toilet bowl with limited success.
'This cubicle's taken,' called Aragorn hopefully as the war band moved in on them menacingly. It didn't slow them down. Gandalf decided to try and salvage the situation, and arose from his undignified position of lying on top of Gimli.
'Go on Gandalf,' cheered the Hobbits as the wizard advanced upon the snarling servants of Sauron, and held their breath as he stood before them. To their collective surprise, he suddenly prostrated himself before their enemies, and grovelled pathetically before them.
'Please don't kill me, I'll do anything you want, I've got nothing to do with these others, they forced me to come with them. I love Sauron and all his friends. Please spare my humble life…'
He began whimpering and kissing the boots of the lead Orc, who laughed and trod on his head.
'You traitorous bastard,' screamed Boromir and threw himself at the Orcs with a Gondorian battle cry. 'I SURRENDER!'
That was all the others needed and they drew their swords, and waded into the fray, laying out Orcs left, right and centre. Seeing the untimely demise of his comrades, the Cave Troll turned and fled with a squeal of fear. The Fellowship admired their handy-work, as Gandalf stepped out from behind a pillar.
'Well done,' he smiled. 'It seems my diversion worked!'
The rest of them looked at him doubtfully, respect for their valiant leader reaching an all time low.
They ran on into the depths of Moria, with Gandalf notably bringing up the rear. As they charged headlong down the tunnels, they became aware of a reverberating beat upon the air that appeared to grow louder and louder until the Hobbits clasped their ears in pain. A turn in the passage lay ahead from which there emanated a dull red glow and tendrils of smoke wafted from out of sight. Gandalf strode forward in an attempt to recover lost face, and peered around the corner. He quickly returned grinning wildly.
'I can see the door,' he whispered excitedly, sliding a new clip into his AK-47. 'We've got to make a dash for it – if anyone gets left behind, then they're er…on their own.'
He turned his back on them and ran like a thing possessed.
Frodo clasped the weed in his pocket and turned the corner. The sight that met his eyes filled him with dread, and almost stopped him in his tracks. A huge ghetto blaster occupied the entire end of the room, pumping out the hardest in underground hip-hop. The packed host of Orcs, bedecked in bandannas and gold chains were bouncing around the mighty cavern, while a giant Cave Troll break-danced in the centre. Marijuana smoke filled the lair, and a vast rotating disco ball reflected the glowing red of a thousand lighted joints. Gandalf was already halfway to the exit, darting from pillar to pillar, the light from his staff lost in the melee. But it was not all this that filled the Hobbit with deep terror. Lording over the volume knob of the stereo was a giant figure, black as the coldest night, seemingly wreathed in smoke and flame, eyes smouldering red and bloodshot. In one hand, it held a cocktail of many spirits and the other held the largest and most evil looking bong Frodo had ever seen. As he stared, the creature lifted it to its lips and took a large hit, a blaze of fire illuminating everything with a bright crimson.
'Aiiyeee!!!' screamed Legolas, his elvish cool miraculously evaporating. 'A Balrog!!!'
'Durin's bollocks!!' roared Gimli, doubling his running speed to about that of a lame tortoise.
The entire room turned and caught the Fellowship in the act of hightailing it to the bridge leading to their freedom. They were well out of range and escape should have been easy, were it not for a sudden booming voice, which echoed mockingly behind them.
'Why, if it isn't Gandalf the Grey – the wizard who cannot take his chronic. Better not stay in here too long, we might have to get the ambulance like last time.'
The Orcs howled with laughter. Gandalf froze in his tracks, his face contorted with rage, while the rest of the Fellowship fled across the bridge and turned to watch him from the other side. Gandalf remained standing halfway across the bridge, but now he had turned to face his foe, who strode forward, still brandishing the enormous bong, and seemed to grow to fill the cavern with darkness and malice.
'Saruman was here the other day, and he smoked TWICE as much as you managed,' the creature continued to gloat. The Orcs rolled on the ground with helpless laughter. 'Radagast came here last week and smoked our ENTIRE SUPPLY! Its time to prove you're a man…'
Once again, the Balrog held out the smoking bong towards the quaking wizard.
'Mother of Morgoth!!' exclaimed Aragorn loudly. 'Its 'ffukyo-up!!''
'What?' exclaimed Sam, awestruck.
'Every bong that was made by the elves was given an elvish name. Look,' he said, drawing his own grubby bong from his trousers - and then taking out his his dope smoking device, 'mine is called 'smokintooa koma'. It was thought that 'ffukyo-up' was lost many years ago by Celeborn after a particularly heavy drinking session.'
On the bridge, Gandalf was now holding the bong in a shaky grip as the Balrog leant down and sparked it. He took a huge hit, smoke gushing from his nose which he managed to magically sculpt into a likeness of Bilbo Baggins getting bitch-slapped by Elrond. It was the most impressive work of sorcery that the Fellowship had ever seen him do.
'He cannot smoke alone,' yelled Boromir valiantly and waited for someone else to make a move. Gandalf stumbled to his knees but did not fall, instead holding out the blackened rod to the Balrog looming above him.
'Your turn,' he choked, turning to give the thumbs up to the waiting band. The Balrog looked confused at the wizard's failure to collapse at his feet and loaded the bong afresh, handing Gandalf the lighter to spark it. Suddenly, things happened very quickly. From his pocket, Gandalf whipped out a quarter he'd 'borrowed' from Frodo's One Weed, and stuffed it into the bowl. Then as the unsuspecting Balrog readied himself, he raised his staff above his head and screamed in elvish.
'YO…KANOT…PAASS-IT!!' and with that he ignited the bowl in a blaze of red fire. The mighty figure shuddered; smoke pouring over and around its horned head. Its eyes bulged wildly and in trying to take a step back, tripped on one of its gold chains and flailed madly on the brink of the precipice. Then, with a final panicked scream, it toppled forwards into the depths of Moria. The Fellowship cheered its approval as Gandalf rose to his feet and attempted a bow on the narrow bridge. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated just how high he was. Still wearing the smile of someone who doesn't really know what's happening, his bow turned into the glorious forward-roll off the edge where he disappeared into the darkness.
'NOOO!!' screamed Frodo, realising the company had lost its leader and spiritual guidance.
'NOOO!!' hollered Aragorn, remembering he had leant Gandalf his complete Burt Bacherach collection.
'NOOO!!' bellowed Gimli, remembering the wizard had still owed him 25 pence.
'NOOO!!' minced Legolas, recalling that Gandalf had borrowed his only comb to get chewing gum out of his beard.
'NOOO!!' squealed Merry and Pippin, remembering he had promised to buy them both a night of unadulterated pleasure with Galadriel when they reached Lothlorien.
'NOOO!!' moaned Sam, realising that Gandalf had been 'looking after' all of his remaining jazz mags.
'NOOO!!' roared Boromir, partly because everyone else was yelling and he felt left out, and partly because as the Balrog had fallen, it had spilt its drink, which was now pouring from the bridge in a torrent.
Then, as a whole, they turned and ran for the door, the cleansing wash of sunlight pretty soon alleviating their woes. They stood at the top of an oddly familiar dale, and turning to their left they saw a road leading directly to the House of Elrond, about a quarter of a mile away. They could even see Elrond himself, frolicking with a couple of playgirls in an outdoor Jacuzzi.
'You know…Gandalf was a bit of loser, wasn't he,' announced Sam.
The rest shrugged, shouldered their packs and marched on towards the east. The air was warm, the sky clear and a large sign ahead read 'Lothlorien – The Birthplace of Vice – 10 miles.' They all broke into a jog.
Coming Soon – Lothlorien or 'Bust'.