There and Back Again
A Hobbit's Tale
By: Bilbo Baggins
(Aka why Jessica Yourdon didn't write the Lord of the Rings.)
Once there was a little hobbit named Bilbo. His habits were being fat and eating too much and being crazy and being mad old Baggins. (Not meaning angry of course because that would just be rude.)
Frodo is his uncle well cousin really. Well, I guess that's actually the other way around.
Samwise is Frodo's gardener. All rich kids have gardeners these days. It's all the rage. Sam specially likes to plant weird smelling herbs that make hobbit children laugh more than Gandalf the Grey. Which is I am sure why Pippin is the way he is. He should be named mad Baggins, but he isn't a Baggins. He's a Took and don't ask me what. I have no idea. Probably vegetables from Framer Maggot's field of forbidden veggies for meat lovers.
This topic brings me to young Meriadoc Brandybuck. He probably makes beer or drinks it. The latter is more likely. He is cousin to Frodo and Pippin in more ways than I feel safe to mention. (Especially since it is my family tree.)
Now there is a certain creature that I must mention was my roommate in college. He smelled of moldy cheese and his name was Gollum or Smeagle or maybe even Dirty Socks, but whatever it was, I found his Ring on a bookmark. Its mine now! Mine I tell you! MY PRECIOUSSS!!!
My Precious is very pretty and Frodo cannot have it because he is unnaturally thin for a hobbit no matter how much food he doesn't eat. Plus gold isn't really his color. Silver looks more to be his thing. You know it is also all the rage with young hobbits these days. But, he informs me that the phrase "all the rage" is not. Oh well. I'm very old, I mean young in reverse. 111 like the man Tolkien. I will not speak of him for it would be an embarrassment to him and all his kin.
In fact today is my 111 birthday and I will be old, old I tell you. Frodo is turning 33 today, but obviously everyone forgot that. He doesn't care though. You know young hobbits that live more in outer space then astronauts do. I haven't seen one since the days of London though.
Now I would like to tell you of my favorite tale that happened to me that I will make up right now. One time when I was very young, about 23 or 56 I ate some apple in some tree and then I fell. I didn't stop falling for 27 years, but that is okay because I got to celebrate all my missed birthdays after I landed. This brings me into introducing the dreaded dun, dun, dun…Sackville-Bagginses.
They actually aren't from the Baggins family at all, although some say they have similar feet to that of most outstanding Bagginses and I have never seen a Baggins who isn't. But, actually they are long lost relatives of the Gamgees and I wish that they would leave me the heck alone. How am I supposed to learn Elvish when they are around stinking up the place worse than Frodo's cologne? Plus all they want is my money. Don't they know that Frodo would be a poor boy if they took all my money? And then he wouldn't be the kid with all the friends in school. That would just be mean. I think Lobelia should mooch off the Gamgees, except she knows that they don't have money.
But, anyway on my birthday once they tried to take my house from me, but it wouldn't fit in their car. Stupid hobbits. Don't they know that a house, especially one dug in the ground cannot fit in a car that doesn't exist? Their stupidity adds splendor to the Baggins name. If I was older I'd tell them a thing or three.
Enough of them. I would like to tell you more about my friend Gandalf that I have mentioned later. He is at least 2 years old, this much is certain. All else about him is shrouded more in mystery than Frodo's eyes. (I personally think they are both glass and that is why he always falls down.) I do know that he made me go on an adventure once, but I only agreed because he said that he would make the Sackville-Bagginses leave me alone. I'm still waiting old man!
I am planning on leaving, you know. I'm sure you know because I saw you reading my diary the other day. Dirty people that you are. Never trust men. They are doomed to die or so says Galadriel, but they just let her out of the psych center 10 minutes ago. She once held a grudge for 99,000 years. It almost makes me feel young. She is actually not real, no matter what Frodo will tell you in the future, she is the result of his over active imagination that he stole from a box under my bed. He told me that it was either that or my Precious. I told him the imagination could do him some good and that kids might stop calling him Stan. So he agreed and took that rather than the Ring, which he agreed, was not his color.
Writing of the Ring reminds me that at the insistence, I mean advice of Gandalf, as he is here right now, I should leave my Ring to Frodo. I asked him about the color and the crafty old Wizard used that stick thing he always carries around and BAM! A lovely thin layer of silver paint is now on the Ring.
I am all set to leave now. I must leave my Precious. I will live with the Elves who may not be as old looking as me, but at least they are older than me. Farewell.