Resinous Tears: - Chapter 3
"Oh, arsing rotisserie hobnails! Skank-eye's rolled free again..." groaned Saruman.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" squealed the optic beard. Skank- eye loved parties. He counted the growth rings of his keratinous eyebrow until the next shindig. (Or at least they would have dug him in the shins, if he had any.)
You see, Skank-eye had always been "special"; ever since the day he was squeezed from Gollum's genital pore, the pseudo ocular larva migrans' dream was to become a lumberjack, "hacking up hunks of wood for a living", as his father put it. Skank-eye was too young to notice the emphasis Sauron placed on the word hunks, but he did recall the drool...
"Son, come see this!" It was the day of the annual Ye Olde Crooked Corneal Careers Fayre and Sauron was up to his eye in pamphlets. "Your great- grandfather was a beautician, you know..." Skank-eye screwed up his eye in disgust. "Daaaad, I'm not spending my Saturdays rouging up gangrenous orcs! I wanna do something more productive, more... um, physical with my time..."
"Okay... what did you have in mind?" Sauron narrowed his eye in concentration. "Saruman has an allotment, you could... weed his turnips?"
"Yawn. Something more... exciting... adventurous... risky!"
"Risqué? There's an orc-brothel back at the house," Sauron said supportively, "and I was speaking to Mrs. Lashley last night, and she said you had definite potential... you could make a real go of it, my boy!"
"I was thinking more about the wood industry..."
Sauron brightened visibly.
"Yeah, like, chucking wood, that kind of thing..."
"fu...oh, chucking wood... what do you mean?!"
"Well dad, it's so cool, you get this massive axe..."
"Is that what you call it these days?" chuckled Sauron.
"...and chuck it right into the tree, slicing its big stupid trunk in half! And then, you use this big chopping machine to skin the bark, and...."
"Enough!! Never! No son of mine...!" Sauron trailed off, turning away. "No son... never!" he mumbled.
Skank-eye was banished. From that day forth, he was sentenced to clearing dead moths from Isengard tower, following Gandalf's infestation. The impressionable young eyelet never saw his father again.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" "Who invited this twerp?" Saruman hissed. Uglúk leapt from the inflatable Gandalf with agility rarely seen in an inebriated leather monster. "I did!" he shrieked, throwing his arms round Skank-eye. Skank-eye smiled and proffered a handful of necrotic moths.
"No thanksh mate, ma belly's fulla elvsies," belched Uglúk, "So, how ya doin' wee man?"
"Well, actually I have news...." Skank-eye whispered darkly.
"Oh, arsing rotisserie hobnails! Skank-eye's rolled free again..." groaned Saruman.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" squealed the optic beard. Skank- eye loved parties. He counted the growth rings of his keratinous eyebrow until the next shindig. (Or at least they would have dug him in the shins, if he had any.)
You see, Skank-eye had always been "special"; ever since the day he was squeezed from Gollum's genital pore, the pseudo ocular larva migrans' dream was to become a lumberjack, "hacking up hunks of wood for a living", as his father put it. Skank-eye was too young to notice the emphasis Sauron placed on the word hunks, but he did recall the drool...
"Son, come see this!" It was the day of the annual Ye Olde Crooked Corneal Careers Fayre and Sauron was up to his eye in pamphlets. "Your great- grandfather was a beautician, you know..." Skank-eye screwed up his eye in disgust. "Daaaad, I'm not spending my Saturdays rouging up gangrenous orcs! I wanna do something more productive, more... um, physical with my time..."
"Okay... what did you have in mind?" Sauron narrowed his eye in concentration. "Saruman has an allotment, you could... weed his turnips?"
"Yawn. Something more... exciting... adventurous... risky!"
"Risqué? There's an orc-brothel back at the house," Sauron said supportively, "and I was speaking to Mrs. Lashley last night, and she said you had definite potential... you could make a real go of it, my boy!"
"I was thinking more about the wood industry..."
Sauron brightened visibly.
"Yeah, like, chucking wood, that kind of thing..."
"fu...oh, chucking wood... what do you mean?!"
"Well dad, it's so cool, you get this massive axe..."
"Is that what you call it these days?" chuckled Sauron.
"...and chuck it right into the tree, slicing its big stupid trunk in half! And then, you use this big chopping machine to skin the bark, and...."
"Enough!! Never! No son of mine...!" Sauron trailed off, turning away. "No son... never!" he mumbled.
Skank-eye was banished. From that day forth, he was sentenced to clearing dead moths from Isengard tower, following Gandalf's infestation. The impressionable young eyelet never saw his father again.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" "Who invited this twerp?" Saruman hissed. Uglúk leapt from the inflatable Gandalf with agility rarely seen in an inebriated leather monster. "I did!" he shrieked, throwing his arms round Skank-eye. Skank-eye smiled and proffered a handful of necrotic moths.
"No thanksh mate, ma belly's fulla elvsies," belched Uglúk, "So, how ya doin' wee man?"
"Well, actually I have news...." Skank-eye whispered darkly.