Meanwhile,Far Far Away, the Comical Donkey was getting very tired of the horny flying monkeys. He had been carried in their swarm for days now, and his butt hurt tremendously from the literal non-stop raping. Yes, that's right, the monkeys didn't even stop to do it. Several would hold his weight while others took turns at his rear, as they moved ever closer to Mordor.

Below, on the ground, a Donkey that was even more comical traveled with a pair of ogres in a carriage, and never had any trouble with horny flying monkeys at all. In-laws, short kings, and bitchy fairy godmothers, yes, but no horny flying monkeys.

The members of the Fellowship came out of Moria in a very foul mood. This was not lifted by the giant bowl of Froot Loops that greeted them. It was flanked on the sides by glasses of milk and orange juice, as well as various sausages and toast.

"Part of a complete breakfast!" boomed a disembodied voice.

"I toll yoo to follow yur nosth," slurred Zombie Toucan Sam, teetering on the edge of the bowl. "Mustht have braaaains!"

He fell into the cereal, soiling it.

"Fucking bird!" yelled Legolas, and he shoved the entire bowl off a cliff, before rounding on the rest of the Fellowship "What the hell kind of camping trip is this?! We go to all these unpleasant places, and get in battles with monsters! And then someone DIES!"

"...Camping trip?" asked Frodo incredulously.

"Yes, camping trip!" grumbled Legolas. "That's what I was hired to do, right?"

"No, I'm sorry," said Aragorn. "This is a life-threatening quest to throw a small piece of jewelry into a volcano."

"That doesn't sound right," said Frodo. "I thought we were supposed to get the Cigarettes of Doom and burn holes in this Bra."

"Oh, yeah," said Aragorn. "I forgot, we don't rate good enough as characters to throw a ring into a volcano."

"That's what we're doing?" asked Boromir.

"Yes, you were at the meeting."

"I wasn't paying attention."

"Look," said Aragorn. "One of our members is dead. Now if we fight the Wraiths, we'll be outnumbered."

"Yeah, sure," said Sam sarcastically. "Because us hobbits are more than capable of going one-on-one with a Ringwraith."

"I feel that the hobbit species is over-represented here," said Boromir.

"So are men," said Gimli. "I don't see any other dwarves around here."

"Probably because we'd all asphyxiatefrom the STENCH," retorted Legolas.

"Look," said Aragorn. "Gandalf was essentially our leader, and now he's splatted. So, I'm going to be the leader from now on."

"Why should you be the leader?!" demanded Boromir. "I'm a badass warrior guy too!"

"No you're not," snapped Sam. "You're a fucking idiot!"

"All of you, shut the hell up," demanded Aragorn. "We just lost a friend. Okay, but we've got to keep going, because those orcs are going to find a way through eventually, even though the bridge is broken. So let's just get our asses moving and we can do this bullshit later."

There was a lot of muttering, but no one wanted to object too loudly, because Aragorn was really good at killing people.

A few days later, the Fellowship reached the border of Lothlorien. They hadn't talked much along the way, and when they did, it was mostly to nag and complain about each other.

"Oh, great," sighed Aragorn. "I forgot this was here. The elves will go all crazy on us if we try to pass through."

"Don't worry," said Legolas. "I'll just walk at the front of the group, and you can all walk behind me in single file and try not to look aggressive. They'll probably think I'm a local leading you through."

They all did as Legolas said, and for a while, nothing happened. That is, until about an hour later, when around fifty elves in gilly suits popped up out of the foliage around them, training large bows on them. Twenty of them moved and made a circle around Legolas, separating him from the others.

"Oh, shit," groaned Legolas. "We're dead, guys."

"Thanks to you, asshole," replied Boromir.

"Who the hell are you and why are you leading this side show through our forest?" asked Haldir, smoking a large cigar.

"Uhm, you see, I'm from around here, and these guys wanted to get through, so I agreed to take them for some money?" tried Legolas.

"Try it again," commanded Haldir. "And you'd better tell the truth this time, or we'll just shoot you."

"All right," sighed Legolas. "I'm Legolas Greenleaf, a prince of Mirkwood, and I'm on a quest with these guys for Elrond, to save the world and stuff."

"And you thought you could just walk straight through to the other side?" snickered Haldir.

"Why not?" asked Legolas.

"Do you honestly think that anyone in Lothlorien dresses or carries themselves like you?" asked Haldir. "You look like poor elven trash."

"I think he is," piped up another one of the elves.

"Yeah," said yet another. "I think he has a mullet."

"No I don't!" cried Legolas, trying to conceal his mullet by scratching his head.

"Didn't he say he was from Mirkwood?" asked one of the elves.

"I heard they fuck their cousins in Mirkwood," said the one next to him.

"Is that true, boy?" asked Haldir. "Do you fuck your cousins?"

Legolas squirmed, and Haldir leaned in toward him.

"Well?" asked Haldir.

"...Only when we're really drunk..." said Legolas in a small voice.

"I hear Mirkwood elves get drunk every night," jeered an elf right next to Legolas. "Real drunk."

The elves began to push Legolas around while chanting, "Mirkwood, Mirkwood, we may be related but it feels so good!" Legolas began to cry and curled up into a ball on the ground.

"Well," said Haldir after he'd let his soldiers taunt and kick Legolas for a while, "seeing as you're on a quest for Elrond, we'd better get you through. We're going to have to check in with the bosses first, though. Hold still while my men blindfold you and tie your arms."

And with that, the elves took their captives deep into Lothlorien, tied together in a chain.

The Fellowship stood in the clothes that the elves had given them after spraying them with fire hoses to "make them presentable." Aragorn was sad because the layer of grime he had been building up had been taken away from him once again. They stared at Lord Celebron and Lady Galadriel.

"Galadriel is glad to see you!" gushed Galadriel. "Just more people to witness the great power of ACROSS, which has succeeded in its mission to take over L Forest! This land is now ruled by the great Lord Celeborn! All hail Lord Celeborn!"

Celeborn, looking uncomfortable in his cape with its huge squarish shoulders, pulled a cord, causing the trapdoor beneath Galadriel to open up, sending her down a pit.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" boomed the Goddess of Canon.

"Heh?" asked MysticButtCrystal. The story faded away, and was replaced by Mort's cabin, where the authors had been writing.

"Oh, Mom, it was horrible!" wailed Celestina. "They cut across a bunch of stories to kidnap me, and then they made me sit on the couch with a scary man!"

Mort yawned and stretched, draping his arm around Celestina.

"See?" cried Celestina. "And they made me work as a satanic telemarketer, and they butchered numerous cute squirrels. And then they killed Toucan Sam, my one and only friend!"

"Toucan Sam's not dead, he's undead," objected Spoofmaster. "And since when do you care about him?"

"We grew up in the same village, and spent our afternoons hiding out in the forest because we were both abused. His mother would fill his rectum with jam and lean umbrellas up against his beak. She stifled his creativity and innate desire to find beautiful fruit cereals. I was kept locked away in a cupboard by the butler because I didn't meet his standards of how a young girl should behave herself. My parents did not do anything against him, because he had used a magic spell on them which made them not notice as part of his scheme to create the world's largest donut! So me and Toucan Sam came together for comfort and protection, and over the years, our love for each other grew. On our shared twelfth birthday, we also shared our first kiss. Unfortunately, a love between a goddess and a cartoon bird cannot be, since it is a crime against nature. So we needed to get a potion to make him into a god, kind of like in Shrek 2, but the local wizard was a money grubbing bastard. To earn the money, Toucan Sam had to go on a voyage across the sea to be in various cameos and fanfics. However, halfway across the ocean, his ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Ripoffson, and I thought him dead for years. That is, until these two killed him for good. Waaaaaah!"

Celestina's mother was trying her hardest not to break out laughing. Could her daughter honestly think that that story made even the slightest bit of sense?

"Celestina," said the GoC, stifling a giggle. "When you fabricate stories, you ought to at least try to remember who your audience is. You were never abused by any butler. We don't even have a butler, since omnipotence tends to make them unnecessary."

"I told you, you were under his spell!" whined Celestina.

"She makes a good point there," said Mort. "Maybe you were under a spell. I did see a story on the news about a gigantic donut destroying Albuquerque."

"And what would a moth-eaten, predictable Stephen King character like you know about it?" inquired the GoC. Mort grabbed his shovel and put on his Shooter hat, causing the authors to hide behind their chairs, but the GoC quickly waved her hand, turning him into a chicken.

"Bcawk!" objected Mort, who began pecking at a corncob.

"You'd better put him back when you're done," grumbled MysticButtCrystal. "If you don't, we'll end up in someone's steamin' bowl over this, judging from all those Mort-loving reviews."

"Do you think that as Canon Incarnate I would leave him like that?" asked the GoC incredulously.

"Well, then, what is it you're here for?" inquired Spoofmaster. "I take it it wasn't specifically to chickenize my muse."

'Since when did I agree to be your muse?' asked a sign Mort the Chicken was holding up.

"Where the hell do animals get those things?" wondered MysticButtCrystal.

"I came here to get my delinquent daughter," said the GoC. "Oh, yeah, and to bring horrible destruction down on her kidnappers."

"It was a self-defense thing," protested MysticButtCrystal. "She was ruining our parody."

"From what I've seen, your parody does a fairly good job of ruining itself," replied the GoC.

"Do you really feel that she didn't deserve something like this?" asked Spoofmaster.

"Well, she did run out on her grounding," admitted the GoC. "And if you hadn't done it, she probably would have cast you into one of her horrible alternate realities."

"So could you just take her and leave?" asked MysticButtCrystal. "Oh yeah, and dechickenize Mort."

"Why not?" agreed the GoC. "This whole thing is giving me a headache, and if she's doing this, who knows who else she's been messing with. I'll have to keep a closer eye on her."

With that, the goddesses disappeared in a flash, and Mort changed back to himself, sans his ratty clothes, which had fallen off when he turned into poultry.

"Oh gack!" cried MysticButtCrystal. "Why couldn't you plothole your clothes back on like Ryoga does?"

Mort sniffed derisively and pulled his pants on.