The Zit
/All this male bonding is sick! Not only that, but I must divide the
Fellowship so that Sauron can get me back and take over the world!/ thought
the One Ring. /I must come up with a plan./
Aragorn slept soundly, occasionally stirring in his sleep. Legolas was on
watch, and took a moment to look his friend over carefully. Orcs had
ambushed them earlier that day, and Legolas feared that Aragorn's pride
would keep him from mentioning anything less than a life-threatening wound.
In the dark of night, Legolas noticed a slight lump right in the center of
the ranger's forehead. Not wanting to disturb his friend's rest, the elf
made a mental note to examine it more fully in the morning.
As the day grew bright, Legolas awoke the Fellowship. "Aragorn," he
called, "Let me see your head."
"What?"
"You head. I saw a lump on it, and I want to make sure you're not hurt."
"Fine," mumbled Aragorn. He knew better than to argue with an elf.
Legolas stood, peering at the ranger's forehead. The elf's crystal blue eyes grew wide.
"What is it? What do you see?" Aragorn implored, with a hint of distress in his voice.
"It's a zit, and it's HUGE! The biggest zit I've ever seen on Man, Dwarf, or Hobbit!" Legolas turned away in disgust. If he spent any longer staring into that orb of thick, gooey, oozable pus, he was going to puke.
"Here, Aragorn. Let me pop it," Boromir offered.
"No, I can take care of myself, and I certainly don't need help popping a zit," the ranger replied. "It will disappear on its own in a few days."
All though breakfast, the various members of the Fellowship had stolen quick glances of the Zit. It was most distressing. The top priority had switched from getting Frodo to Mordor to getting the Zit off Strider's head. "It's like he grew a third eye," mumbled Pippin. Aragorn shot the little Hobbit a deadly look.
Boromir offered several more times to pop the Zit; each time Strider refused. Three days had passed, and the Zit was still growing. There had already been three fights over the fate of the Zit and one assault on the Zit by a Hobbit. /Hehehe. This is the best evil plot I've ever come up with/ thought the Ring. The Zit's (and the Ring's) power was growing. Aragorn sat by the fire, contemplating the Zit. Legolas and Boromir settled themselves next to him. "Listen, Aragorn. Let us pop the Zit. We promise to be gentle."
"No! For the last time, leave it ALONE!"
"Is that your final answer?" Boromir inquired. This was getting ridiculous.
"Yes! Now please, let me think!"
Legolas and Boromir trotted over to the others. "He still refuses to let us touch it. It's time for plan B."
"What's that?" asked Merry.
"Simple, we give him a few sips of Elven fey-wine, and when he passes out, we pop it!" exclaimed Frodo.
"SHHHH!!! He'll hear!"
Frodo sank back, disheartened at being scolded.
"But Aragorn was raised with Elves; it'll never work," complained Gimli. He felt doomed to live with that huge zit, begging to be popped, but unable to do anything about it.
"Trust me," said Gandalf, "This will work. It must work."
Legolas brought the canteen of fey-wine to Strider, who was lost in deep thought about Arwen now. "Here, have a drink. You've been pushing yourself too hard these last few days. You need a break."
"No, I need to be able to fight in a moment's notice," declined Aragorn.
"Just a bit, it'll loosen you up. I insist."
"Alright." Aragorn took the canteen from the elf, removed the lid, and took a sip. It was really good. He looked over at the elf, who was pretending to study a twig in the fire. Aragorn opted for a second, then a third drink. Before long, Aragorn had enough fey-wine in his system that he could do little more than stare straight ahead. Legolas took the canteen from the ranger, and then caught the Man as he slumped forward, unconscious.
"Yes! Let's do this!" shouted the dwarf. The Fellowship gathered around. Boromir stepped forth to do his appointed task. Pippin had water and a cloth ready. Boromir grasped Strider's head to hold it steady. Legolas reached forward and placed his thumbs on either side of the Zit. This was it; this was the moment they had been waiting for. Four miserable days of aching to pop the darn Zit, and it was finally going to happen! Eight eager pairs of eyes were upon the Zit.
Legolas gave the Zit a small squeeze. Nothing happened. Determined not to lose this one chance, Legolas squeezed again, this time applying some of his Elven strength. There was a sickening sound of skin being ripped, and like Mount Vesuvious, the Zit exploded, sending pus in all directions. The members of the Fellowship fell back, hoping to avoid the globs of Zit-guts that were bursting forth. The globs fell to the ground and the crater that had once been an enormous Zit continued to ooze. Legolas fainted dead away. Gandalf poured some water on the cloth, cleaned the pus off Aragorn's face, and then took special care to disinfect the wound. No one wanted to see the Return of the Zit.
The Fellowship slept well that night, unaware that the Ring was furious at having it's plan foiled, especially by an Elf. /I'll show him, I'll show him/ thought the Ring. Legolas slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the lump forming on the tip of his nose.
The End.or is it? Muahahaha! I'm no poet, and I know it; I just wrote this for my sister, who had a zit like a blister. P.S. Any feedback, positive or negative, is both welcome and appreciated. Thanks.
"What?"
"You head. I saw a lump on it, and I want to make sure you're not hurt."
"Fine," mumbled Aragorn. He knew better than to argue with an elf.
Legolas stood, peering at the ranger's forehead. The elf's crystal blue eyes grew wide.
"What is it? What do you see?" Aragorn implored, with a hint of distress in his voice.
"It's a zit, and it's HUGE! The biggest zit I've ever seen on Man, Dwarf, or Hobbit!" Legolas turned away in disgust. If he spent any longer staring into that orb of thick, gooey, oozable pus, he was going to puke.
"Here, Aragorn. Let me pop it," Boromir offered.
"No, I can take care of myself, and I certainly don't need help popping a zit," the ranger replied. "It will disappear on its own in a few days."
All though breakfast, the various members of the Fellowship had stolen quick glances of the Zit. It was most distressing. The top priority had switched from getting Frodo to Mordor to getting the Zit off Strider's head. "It's like he grew a third eye," mumbled Pippin. Aragorn shot the little Hobbit a deadly look.
Boromir offered several more times to pop the Zit; each time Strider refused. Three days had passed, and the Zit was still growing. There had already been three fights over the fate of the Zit and one assault on the Zit by a Hobbit. /Hehehe. This is the best evil plot I've ever come up with/ thought the Ring. The Zit's (and the Ring's) power was growing. Aragorn sat by the fire, contemplating the Zit. Legolas and Boromir settled themselves next to him. "Listen, Aragorn. Let us pop the Zit. We promise to be gentle."
"No! For the last time, leave it ALONE!"
"Is that your final answer?" Boromir inquired. This was getting ridiculous.
"Yes! Now please, let me think!"
Legolas and Boromir trotted over to the others. "He still refuses to let us touch it. It's time for plan B."
"What's that?" asked Merry.
"Simple, we give him a few sips of Elven fey-wine, and when he passes out, we pop it!" exclaimed Frodo.
"SHHHH!!! He'll hear!"
Frodo sank back, disheartened at being scolded.
"But Aragorn was raised with Elves; it'll never work," complained Gimli. He felt doomed to live with that huge zit, begging to be popped, but unable to do anything about it.
"Trust me," said Gandalf, "This will work. It must work."
Legolas brought the canteen of fey-wine to Strider, who was lost in deep thought about Arwen now. "Here, have a drink. You've been pushing yourself too hard these last few days. You need a break."
"No, I need to be able to fight in a moment's notice," declined Aragorn.
"Just a bit, it'll loosen you up. I insist."
"Alright." Aragorn took the canteen from the elf, removed the lid, and took a sip. It was really good. He looked over at the elf, who was pretending to study a twig in the fire. Aragorn opted for a second, then a third drink. Before long, Aragorn had enough fey-wine in his system that he could do little more than stare straight ahead. Legolas took the canteen from the ranger, and then caught the Man as he slumped forward, unconscious.
"Yes! Let's do this!" shouted the dwarf. The Fellowship gathered around. Boromir stepped forth to do his appointed task. Pippin had water and a cloth ready. Boromir grasped Strider's head to hold it steady. Legolas reached forward and placed his thumbs on either side of the Zit. This was it; this was the moment they had been waiting for. Four miserable days of aching to pop the darn Zit, and it was finally going to happen! Eight eager pairs of eyes were upon the Zit.
Legolas gave the Zit a small squeeze. Nothing happened. Determined not to lose this one chance, Legolas squeezed again, this time applying some of his Elven strength. There was a sickening sound of skin being ripped, and like Mount Vesuvious, the Zit exploded, sending pus in all directions. The members of the Fellowship fell back, hoping to avoid the globs of Zit-guts that were bursting forth. The globs fell to the ground and the crater that had once been an enormous Zit continued to ooze. Legolas fainted dead away. Gandalf poured some water on the cloth, cleaned the pus off Aragorn's face, and then took special care to disinfect the wound. No one wanted to see the Return of the Zit.
The Fellowship slept well that night, unaware that the Ring was furious at having it's plan foiled, especially by an Elf. /I'll show him, I'll show him/ thought the Ring. Legolas slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the lump forming on the tip of his nose.
The End.or is it? Muahahaha! I'm no poet, and I know it; I just wrote this for my sister, who had a zit like a blister. P.S. Any feedback, positive or negative, is both welcome and appreciated. Thanks.