Chapter 3
Right, so like I was sayin'… dear old Frankie gives Frodo this whole song and dance number – trust me it was disturbing to see that – about me, a helpless freaking ring, pillaging the entire earth, enslaving all the free people...yap yap yap...and the little goober buys it like a charm.
Actually, it might have been the promise of a free trip to Mount Doom, which is home to some of the best Pipeweed Middle Earth can buy, but let's give our hero some moral credibility, as doubtful as it is anyway.
If I know Frank, he was just getting rid of the kid to throw another one of his benders in the ol' Hobbit hole. Basically Frank's parties usually involve a lot of cheap grain alcohol, even cheaper strippers, and Jello Twister.
This is pretty much the only reason the elves have anything to do with him, pervy bunch that they are.
Why else would he tell them to go off on their own and meet him somewhere else?
But I digress...where was I? Ah, yes, the beginning of the 'fellowship'.
Yes. Back to Frank and his powers of persuasion. He even manages to rope the hired help into this escapade – a 'bush-trimmer' he claims he is...uh-huh – to accompany our dull hero by promising not to turn him into anything 'unnatural'.
Yeah, right…
The most 'unnatural' thing about this whole quest was the glaringly obvious S&M thing those two little wankers have going on. Its "Yes Master Frodo this and YES, Master Frodo that…." and "let me rub butter on your hairy toes Master Frodo"…
Its enough to make a ring sweat I tell ya.
So ol' Frank does that 'close my eyes and point to a spot on the map' trick and the next thing you know we are on a friggin' boy scout hike to Bree, with me shoved in a pocket with all kinds of things that you're never told a hobbit carries.
There's being prepared and then there's bloody wishing for a miracle! What did he think he was? Some kind of sex symbol? Okay, yeah, he also had the recommended ball of twine, like all good boy scouts, but I don't think he would use it for normal things.
There better be a badge involved, that's all I have to say.
Either way, old Frank decided to get them started before Frodo decides to have 'one for the road'. Smart, if you ask me, but hey, no one ever does. After all, I'm just a ring. Just ignore me. See if I care.
And then, wonder why in the hey I would go evil!
Mind you, no one ever mentions the fact that – after Frank went off in one direction – I convinced our...er...heroes to stop off at the first net cafe on the route. Okay, we stopped at twenty spider webs, before they got it right, but that's irrelevant.
So, anyway, I send the boss, Sauron, a quick email letting him know that I am taking some vacation days to get in touch with nature and my heinously villainous side, which is only fair after God only knows how long stuck in a bloody envelope, but that I promise to be evil straight off on Monday.
Also, could he please send the Ring Wraiths to pick me up in Bree?
Wraiths aren't a bad lot if you can deal with that screaming horses. Yeah, they're a little image obsessed if you ask me, what with the insisting on back-lighting and only wearing black to 'make them look thinner' bit.
Actually, they're a bit like a pack of Undead Cheerleaders, they do everything together: paint their nails black, compare brands of EvilWear(tm), check each other's pompoms (think whatever you like about that)…and that can be a little annoying.
Mordor can be so cliquey sometimes.
Anyway as I found out, the Wraiths, being the dizzy twits they are – and you can guarantee they were all bottle blondes when they were alive – didn't read the WHOLE email and came to the Shire instead.
None of this – especially massacres of innocents who got in the Wraiths way en route to the shoe sales – was in any way my fault.
I am just a ring, after all.