Disclaimer: A very nasty person just broke it to me that I do not own the
Lord of the Rings. Excuse me while I cry like a little girl/beat the piss
out of said person.
When we last left our heroes, most of them were getting their brains screwed out. Ugh, not a pretty mental image. Our five remaining heroes, Gandalf, Radagast, Sam, Gimli, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted, were setting off on a quest. . . to find a bunch of people who weren't getting their brains screwed out, and were insane enough to join a seemingly hopeless quest to destroy the Mary-sues that were threatening to destroy the quest to destroy the evil that would destroy Middle Earth. At this point, several readers' heads explode. KABLOOIE!
Gimli rolled his eyes back into his head as he took a major hit from Gandalf's pipe. He passed it along to Sam, who had to be shown what to do, and he still burned himself. While he was screaming in the background, Gimli turned to Gandalf,
"So. . . hehehe. . . what are we gonna. . . hehehe. . . do?"
Gandalf, also drugged up to his eyeballs, laughed his head off for nearly an hour. Finally, when he was again capable of rational thought, he responded,
"What was the question?"
Gimli threw a pebble at Gandalf's forehead.
"OW! Alright, alright! We split up and go for help."
Radagast leaned forward intently, "Go to who?"
"YOUR MOM! Hehehehehehehe!"
Radagast slapped Gandalf in the head with an open palm. He leaned back, saying, "I will go to Fangorn and Rohan."
"I will go to the dwarves," said Gimli.
"And I to the hobbits," Sam said as he removed his head from a bucket of water, where he had been cooling the pipe-burn.
Gandalf frowned, "I have personal business to attend to. And it's very private! So don't go bugging me with questions like 'Gandalf, what are you doing?' and 'Gandalf will you tell me a story?' because goddamnit I'm not telling you anything! ANYTHING!"
They all stared at him. Gandalf blushed and looked away. Radagast looked around,
"Hey! Where's Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted?"
They all crept over to a closet. Sam muttered something about 'not disturbing someone with their sword out'; earning him a smack from Gimli. Radagast tentatively poked the door open, and they were blown back by a torrent of screams. Oliver was shrieking at his wall for no apparent reason, save for a half-dozen empty syringes.
"Just leave the little doper a note telling him to go to Gondor," said Gandalf as he walked out the door, "I have business to take care of."
DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN!
Sam looked around wildly, "Did anyone else just hear that?"
Gimli shook his head, "No, but I'm so high that I probably wouldn't notice a thousand Uruk-hai chopping at my body."
"SHH! We're not supposed to know about that!"
Gimli gave Sam the finger, "See you losers. I'm going to see the dwarves. They're cool."
"Oh, and we're not?"
Gimli left Radagast's question unanswered. The others hung around for a while, scrawling obscene words on the walls and peeing into the drinking well. At around nightfall, the combined sounds of noises that could only be described as orgasmic and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted screaming at a wall got to be a bit much, and Gandalf, Radagast and Sam got on their chosen modes of transportation and went as quickly as they could to their chosen destination. Before they left, Sam tried to get one last word in with Gandalf.
"Mr. Gandalf, sir?"
Gandalf rolled his eyes, "What do you want you pathetic little pile of excrement? And why the hell do you call everyone 'Mr.'? It's really annoying."
"Sorry Mr. Gandalf sir."
A sigh, "What do you want Mr. Sam?"
"Stop that."
"Stop what Mr. Sam?"
"CALLING ME MR. SAM!"
"You do it to me, you little maggot."
"Yes, but I'm the obsessed, overly polite, best friend of the Ring- bearer. I'm allowed to be annoying."
"Well I'm sick of being portrayed as the crusty old man with no sense of humor. I'll have you know that Bilbo and I used to take shits in the vats in the back of the Green Dragon."
"Everyone does that Mr. Gandalf. It gives the beer more flavor. And besides, you are a crusty old man with no sense of humor."
At this point, Gandalf throttled Sam with such vigor that we're not going into the specifics.
Radagast pulled them apart, "Gandalf, what have I told you about skipping your medication."
Gandalf put on a mock-thoughtful face, "That it's perfectly okay and I should do it more often."
Radagast slapped him in the back of the head. He turned to Sam and asked kindly, "Are you all right dear boy?"
"I'm sure I'll be fine once my brain stops bleeding internally."
Radagast smiled, "Oh. Jolly good then."
"Little fucker," Gandalf muttered, "Serve him right it will. 'You are a crusty old man with no sense of humor.' Huh. Kids today have no respect for their elders and demi-gods. If I had said something like that to Manwë, my ass would be so toast right now. I'd probably be floating in the Kùma with Morgoth. No respect at all. I should take my belt to. . . OW!"
Radagast had hit him in the back of the head, "Shut your hole you crotchety old fuck."
"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot," Gandalf said.
"Oh piss off."
"Make me."
Sam sighed, "And you two are the hope of the free world."
They both looked at him, eyebrows raised. Sam whistled nervously for a moment, then said quickly,
"NicetalkingtoyougottogothingstodoafterallI'llseeyoubothlaterafterIgetthehob bitsrousedtata!"
Gandalf shook his head, "Dumb shit."
Radagast nodded, "Yeah. And he didn't even get to ask you his question."
"That's alright. I know what he was going to ask, and my answer was 'piss off'."
"What was the question?"
Gandalf snorted, "'Where are you going Gandalf?'"
"What a dumb little fudge-packer," Radagast shook his head, "Did you notice how guilty he looked when you said Frodo was a virgin?"
"I noticed. And don't think I didn't know that he was doing Frodo behind my back, the nasty little cheater."
Radagast cocked an eyebrow at Gandalf. The other Istari hummed as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Finally the silence became too heavy and Gandalf ran away screaming, heading south. Radagast shook his head, and picked up the bag of weed that Gandalf had dropped in his idiocy. After all, it was a long way to Rohan. . .
Later that night, Alterntlodonmiel was walking with Legolas, the poor elf hobbling a bit, seeing as his, er, private parts, were swollen from, er, overuse. The Mary-sue felt herself getting a bit randy again, and was just about to throw Legolas down and shag him rotten when she heard a faint scream.
She drew her 'Magical Elvish blade of Magic' and rushed to the aid of, whoever. She really didn't care. It would make her look good in front of Legolas, and he might screw her voluntarily after this. The Mirkwood elf hobbled along behind the Mary-sue, enthralled by her false beauty.
They rushed into the alcove where Gimli, Gandalf, Sam, Radagast and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted had met earlier. The screams were coming from here, she decided with her somewhat less than average reasoning skills.
It was coming from behind a door that led into a broom cupboard. With no tact whatsoever, she flung open the door. . . and was instantly deafened by the screams of the drugged up Istari. Legolas, being the lesser immortal that he was (taste the bitter irony) was blown away by the screams, sending him flying through a window where Lindir was being forced into copulation, but by the mystical laws of Mary-suedom, this was not considered rape. Go figure.
Alterntlodonmiel rose unsteadily to her feet, looking for the source of the noise that had certainly destroyed her lover. She looked around, and made a token search of the broom closet. She shrugged, and turned to find and then screw Legolas again. Oliver the heroin addict jumped down in front of her.
She jumped and he laughed heartily. He pulled out a picture of Legolas doing the unspeakable with Haldir. She groped for it blindly, unaware of anything else around her. Oliver tossed it in the air, and thwacked her in the head while she was distracted. She fell to the ground, winded.
Oliver, even doped up as he was, knew he would never get a chance like this again. He jumped onto her, knocking what little breath that remained out. He learned forward so that their lips were practically touching.
Alterntlodonmiel began to panic, 'My god! I'm going to be raped by a really old ugly guy who's doped up and wearing polka-dots.'
But the Istari did what she least expected. He opened his mouth, and belched. His belch smelled of pot, and alcohol. It overpowered her and she passed out on the floor.
Oliver, being the kind Istari that he was, didn't kill her. He got up off of her chest, and turned to leave. Just before he left the cupboard, he snapped his fingers and turned back. Taking a bottle out from underneath his robes, he emptied the contents out over Alterntlodonmiel's inner thighs.
He stalked away into the night. He had read the note between drug- induced screams, and he then took a horse from the stables and rode swiftly for Gondor.
The bottle? It was pure poison oak extract. Alterntlodonmiel wasn't going to be in the mood to do Legolas for quite a while. It was the least Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted could do for the poor guy.
A/N: What do you think? More reviews people! I'm just as addicted to them as Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is to drugs. Oh, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is based on several people. My room-mate supplied the name and the asshole personality. The Very Secret Diaries' Manfred the Slightly Ecru and the PPC's Corvid the Plaid gave me the concept. Just thought I'd give credit where credit is due.
When we last left our heroes, most of them were getting their brains screwed out. Ugh, not a pretty mental image. Our five remaining heroes, Gandalf, Radagast, Sam, Gimli, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted, were setting off on a quest. . . to find a bunch of people who weren't getting their brains screwed out, and were insane enough to join a seemingly hopeless quest to destroy the Mary-sues that were threatening to destroy the quest to destroy the evil that would destroy Middle Earth. At this point, several readers' heads explode. KABLOOIE!
Gimli rolled his eyes back into his head as he took a major hit from Gandalf's pipe. He passed it along to Sam, who had to be shown what to do, and he still burned himself. While he was screaming in the background, Gimli turned to Gandalf,
"So. . . hehehe. . . what are we gonna. . . hehehe. . . do?"
Gandalf, also drugged up to his eyeballs, laughed his head off for nearly an hour. Finally, when he was again capable of rational thought, he responded,
"What was the question?"
Gimli threw a pebble at Gandalf's forehead.
"OW! Alright, alright! We split up and go for help."
Radagast leaned forward intently, "Go to who?"
"YOUR MOM! Hehehehehehehe!"
Radagast slapped Gandalf in the head with an open palm. He leaned back, saying, "I will go to Fangorn and Rohan."
"I will go to the dwarves," said Gimli.
"And I to the hobbits," Sam said as he removed his head from a bucket of water, where he had been cooling the pipe-burn.
Gandalf frowned, "I have personal business to attend to. And it's very private! So don't go bugging me with questions like 'Gandalf, what are you doing?' and 'Gandalf will you tell me a story?' because goddamnit I'm not telling you anything! ANYTHING!"
They all stared at him. Gandalf blushed and looked away. Radagast looked around,
"Hey! Where's Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted?"
They all crept over to a closet. Sam muttered something about 'not disturbing someone with their sword out'; earning him a smack from Gimli. Radagast tentatively poked the door open, and they were blown back by a torrent of screams. Oliver was shrieking at his wall for no apparent reason, save for a half-dozen empty syringes.
"Just leave the little doper a note telling him to go to Gondor," said Gandalf as he walked out the door, "I have business to take care of."
DUN-DUN-DUN-DUN!
Sam looked around wildly, "Did anyone else just hear that?"
Gimli shook his head, "No, but I'm so high that I probably wouldn't notice a thousand Uruk-hai chopping at my body."
"SHH! We're not supposed to know about that!"
Gimli gave Sam the finger, "See you losers. I'm going to see the dwarves. They're cool."
"Oh, and we're not?"
Gimli left Radagast's question unanswered. The others hung around for a while, scrawling obscene words on the walls and peeing into the drinking well. At around nightfall, the combined sounds of noises that could only be described as orgasmic and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted screaming at a wall got to be a bit much, and Gandalf, Radagast and Sam got on their chosen modes of transportation and went as quickly as they could to their chosen destination. Before they left, Sam tried to get one last word in with Gandalf.
"Mr. Gandalf, sir?"
Gandalf rolled his eyes, "What do you want you pathetic little pile of excrement? And why the hell do you call everyone 'Mr.'? It's really annoying."
"Sorry Mr. Gandalf sir."
A sigh, "What do you want Mr. Sam?"
"Stop that."
"Stop what Mr. Sam?"
"CALLING ME MR. SAM!"
"You do it to me, you little maggot."
"Yes, but I'm the obsessed, overly polite, best friend of the Ring- bearer. I'm allowed to be annoying."
"Well I'm sick of being portrayed as the crusty old man with no sense of humor. I'll have you know that Bilbo and I used to take shits in the vats in the back of the Green Dragon."
"Everyone does that Mr. Gandalf. It gives the beer more flavor. And besides, you are a crusty old man with no sense of humor."
At this point, Gandalf throttled Sam with such vigor that we're not going into the specifics.
Radagast pulled them apart, "Gandalf, what have I told you about skipping your medication."
Gandalf put on a mock-thoughtful face, "That it's perfectly okay and I should do it more often."
Radagast slapped him in the back of the head. He turned to Sam and asked kindly, "Are you all right dear boy?"
"I'm sure I'll be fine once my brain stops bleeding internally."
Radagast smiled, "Oh. Jolly good then."
"Little fucker," Gandalf muttered, "Serve him right it will. 'You are a crusty old man with no sense of humor.' Huh. Kids today have no respect for their elders and demi-gods. If I had said something like that to Manwë, my ass would be so toast right now. I'd probably be floating in the Kùma with Morgoth. No respect at all. I should take my belt to. . . OW!"
Radagast had hit him in the back of the head, "Shut your hole you crotchety old fuck."
"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot," Gandalf said.
"Oh piss off."
"Make me."
Sam sighed, "And you two are the hope of the free world."
They both looked at him, eyebrows raised. Sam whistled nervously for a moment, then said quickly,
"NicetalkingtoyougottogothingstodoafterallI'llseeyoubothlaterafterIgetthehob bitsrousedtata!"
Gandalf shook his head, "Dumb shit."
Radagast nodded, "Yeah. And he didn't even get to ask you his question."
"That's alright. I know what he was going to ask, and my answer was 'piss off'."
"What was the question?"
Gandalf snorted, "'Where are you going Gandalf?'"
"What a dumb little fudge-packer," Radagast shook his head, "Did you notice how guilty he looked when you said Frodo was a virgin?"
"I noticed. And don't think I didn't know that he was doing Frodo behind my back, the nasty little cheater."
Radagast cocked an eyebrow at Gandalf. The other Istari hummed as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Finally the silence became too heavy and Gandalf ran away screaming, heading south. Radagast shook his head, and picked up the bag of weed that Gandalf had dropped in his idiocy. After all, it was a long way to Rohan. . .
Later that night, Alterntlodonmiel was walking with Legolas, the poor elf hobbling a bit, seeing as his, er, private parts, were swollen from, er, overuse. The Mary-sue felt herself getting a bit randy again, and was just about to throw Legolas down and shag him rotten when she heard a faint scream.
She drew her 'Magical Elvish blade of Magic' and rushed to the aid of, whoever. She really didn't care. It would make her look good in front of Legolas, and he might screw her voluntarily after this. The Mirkwood elf hobbled along behind the Mary-sue, enthralled by her false beauty.
They rushed into the alcove where Gimli, Gandalf, Sam, Radagast and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted had met earlier. The screams were coming from here, she decided with her somewhat less than average reasoning skills.
It was coming from behind a door that led into a broom cupboard. With no tact whatsoever, she flung open the door. . . and was instantly deafened by the screams of the drugged up Istari. Legolas, being the lesser immortal that he was (taste the bitter irony) was blown away by the screams, sending him flying through a window where Lindir was being forced into copulation, but by the mystical laws of Mary-suedom, this was not considered rape. Go figure.
Alterntlodonmiel rose unsteadily to her feet, looking for the source of the noise that had certainly destroyed her lover. She looked around, and made a token search of the broom closet. She shrugged, and turned to find and then screw Legolas again. Oliver the heroin addict jumped down in front of her.
She jumped and he laughed heartily. He pulled out a picture of Legolas doing the unspeakable with Haldir. She groped for it blindly, unaware of anything else around her. Oliver tossed it in the air, and thwacked her in the head while she was distracted. She fell to the ground, winded.
Oliver, even doped up as he was, knew he would never get a chance like this again. He jumped onto her, knocking what little breath that remained out. He learned forward so that their lips were practically touching.
Alterntlodonmiel began to panic, 'My god! I'm going to be raped by a really old ugly guy who's doped up and wearing polka-dots.'
But the Istari did what she least expected. He opened his mouth, and belched. His belch smelled of pot, and alcohol. It overpowered her and she passed out on the floor.
Oliver, being the kind Istari that he was, didn't kill her. He got up off of her chest, and turned to leave. Just before he left the cupboard, he snapped his fingers and turned back. Taking a bottle out from underneath his robes, he emptied the contents out over Alterntlodonmiel's inner thighs.
He stalked away into the night. He had read the note between drug- induced screams, and he then took a horse from the stables and rode swiftly for Gondor.
The bottle? It was pure poison oak extract. Alterntlodonmiel wasn't going to be in the mood to do Legolas for quite a while. It was the least Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted could do for the poor guy.
A/N: What do you think? More reviews people! I'm just as addicted to them as Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is to drugs. Oh, and Oliver the Vaguely Polka-dotted is based on several people. My room-mate supplied the name and the asshole personality. The Very Secret Diaries' Manfred the Slightly Ecru and the PPC's Corvid the Plaid gave me the concept. Just thought I'd give credit where credit is due.
