It was a bright and sunny morning in the happy town of Snazzbundle, Ontario, as it was every year on the morning of Lubamas. Hooloovoo snorted in her sleep, then rolled over and opened her eyes, only to see an unbelievably magnificent face peering down at her from above.
"Why, good morning, Breck! How ever did you get into my house?" Hooloovoo wondered.
"Good question, my turtle, and one that will soon be answered," Breck replied, tapping her nose conspiratorially.
"Never you mind – it's Lubamas!" cried Hooloovoo, leaping from her bed with all the grace of a half-baked pansymuffin. "Let's go see what the Benevolent Luba has left for me this year!"
"Hooloovoo, there is no such thing as Luba," Breck said sadly. "I can't believe you're still buying into that crap."
"Shush, you! What do you know about it?" Hooloovoo whined, and mounted the pink tricycle that stood beside her king-sized bed. [It was the size of a very LARGE king – the fattest-ass king you ever did see.] "To the Batmobile, Janice!"
"I'm not Janice, fool," Breck said fondly, but followed the half-crazed strudlebucket of a child down the staircase nonetheless.
"Hello, my front door has been knocked in," Hooloovoo noted, regarding the pile of rubble that had once been the entrance to her house.
"Wasn't me," Breck said quickly. As Hooloovoo knew her friend would never lie, she chalked the disturbance up to disgruntled garden gnomes, who had surely grown exasperated with the control she had over the fried squirrel market and had decided to take matters into their own hands.
"Damned gnomes!" Hooloovoo cried, and gave the pile of rubble a feisty kick from her perch on the tricycle.
"Done been told, pile, done been told," Breck commented, and the two set off down the hall to search for the towering heap of presents that must surely have been left for them by the Benevolent Luba.
"Look!" cried Hooloovoo suddenly, pointing a finger in the direction of an ominous, lumpy, blanket-covered shape that stood by her kitchen table.
Breck gasped. "What could it be?"
"Moneycakes!" squeaked Piggy the guinea pig from her pen, staring in horror at the thing.
"Die, thing, die!" Hooloovoo shrieked, and attacked it ferociously with a dragon-shaped novelty spaghetti scoop. All of a sudden, the pile snorted, and said "OOF".
"ARGH!!" screamed Breck and Hooloovoo. "It's alive!"
"Wait..." Breck remembered suddenly, as the pile collapsed to the floor. "That's just my present to you. It's not deadly."
"Erm?" Hooloovoo wondered, and went to investigate. She dug about under the blankets and eventually pulled out the head of a pretty blonde girl (still attached to the body, of course).
"LAWKS!" Hooloovoo shrieked, and hugged the head.
Oh, wait... Correct that, it was Legolas.
"I bought him for you off E-Bay," Breck said. "Cost me five buckaroos, he did."
"Bless you, Breckybum!" Hooloovoo cried, her eyes filled with tears of joy. "But... I think he's dead."
The dear androgynous elf-thing did indeed appear lifeless, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and a train of drool running down his cheek.
"It's okay, I just had to drug him up to keep him quiet," Breck explained, and proceeded to give the elf a hearty shake.
"Ungh..." Legolas mumbled incoherently. "Yes, Mother, the gibbergooks have been properly sterilized... It is Tuesday, after all..."
"Gibbergooks?" Hooloovoo wondered, stroking Legolas's cheek. "What's a gibbergook, my pet?"
"Honestly," Breck puffed. "They're those gopher things that hide in old stockings and live on grammar."
"Bad grammar?" Hooloovoo asked.
"More like the idea of grammar."
Hooloovoo chose to ignore her enlightened friend. "Awaken, my star-spun joybundle of destiny!" she murmured to Legolas, who opened one eye and gurgled drunkenly.
"Maybe if you stuck a carrot up his nose..." Breck suggested, and handed Hooloovoo a specimen of said vegetable. Hooloovoo wriggled the thing obligingly in the nasal orifice of her beloved, until he began to sputter and choke. She relented, and the elf sat up.
He wasn't entirely hideous. In fact, he was kind of cute, in an asexual sort of way... from certain angles, at least. Breck tilted her head to try to find one of those angles.
"My love!" Hooloovoo cried, and flung her arms around the skinny blond thing.
"Blargh..." Legolas groaned. He limbs were as floppy and damp socks. "My head... My fucking head..."
"No potty-mouth, my pet," Hooloovoo scolded, and slapped the elf affectionately.
"I'll make him some coffee," Breck offered, and within seconds they were all holding mugs of delicious java, the likes of which Mr. Tim Horton could only dream. (Piggy's mug was very small, of course.)
"Caffeine-stimulated guinea pigs aside, this has the potential to become a very likeable arrangement," Hooloovoo said, refraining from sipping her coffee, which she did not actually like (silly thing).
"Amen," Breck agreed. "I've had him hidden under my bed for five days now. How he does fuss!"
"You weren't feeding me," Legolas whined. "And you stuffed me in a sack. I hate you."
"Well, you're not the most loveable fellow yourself, potatobuns," Breck said, sipping her coffee.
"I shall feed you," Hooloovoo murmured. "I shall feed you whatever you like, my darling love... What is it you'd like for breakfast, hmm?"
"Cocopuffs?" Legolas suggested.
"WRONG!" Hooloovoo screeched, and slapped the elf repeatedly as she cackled with glee.
"Give him the carrot," Breck suggested.
Before Hooloovoo could stop him, the gormless twit of an elf had spotted the carrot and stuffed it in his pansy-boy mouth.
"Ew!" Hooloovoo said. "That's been in your nose, silly."
Legolas withered. "I suck," he said mournfully.
"True dat!" Breck agreed.
"Don't you listen to her, Legolove, she doesn't know what she's talking about," Hooloovoo soothed the elf, wrapping him in a tender embrace. "She likes ugly old men –"
"And by UGLY she means SEXALICIOUS, and by OLD she means... um... even MORE sexalicious..."
"- with serious commitment problems and big fat noses!" Hooloovoo said loudly, trying to speak over Breck's protests.
"Hey, you're forgetting who bought you that fart," Breck muttered. "No respect, no respect at all."
"You almost killed me!" Legolas sputtered.
"Oh, suck it up, you pansy," Breck said, and threw her mug at him.
"Now, don't let's be cruel," Hooloovoo said diplomatically. "I'm sure we can all get along if we try..."
Legolas hissed at Breck, who was searching for something else to throw at him. (His pencil-thin figure proved to be a difficult target.)
"I can't stay, anyway," Legolas muttered, grabbing Piggy and clutching her to his head for protection. Breck sighed. She wouldn't dare throw things at Piggy.
"Why ever not, my pet?" Hooloovoo wondered, stroking his blond hair distractedly.
"Because I need to go home, duh. I have a family, and obligations, and... stuff."
"Your family don't want you, hun," Breck said. "Sorry to break it to you, but your dear old dad was the one selling you for five dollars over the internet."
Legolas's eyes grew spastically wide. The poor effeminate mongrel looked ready to burst into tears.
"Don't worry, my love, you'll like it here," Hooloovoo assured him, pulling him into another hug. "We've got good food, and all the fried squirrel you can juggle."
Legolas pulled away, regarding her suspiciously. "You didn't have Cocopuffs," he muttered.
"No, but we do have tons and tons of pirogues," Hooloovoo said.
"Peroga... what?"
"They're like the tortellini of Eastern Europe," Breck explained, then added, "Dawg."
"I like the sound of that," Legolas said, and lay back contentedly in Hooloovoo's arms.
And they were all happy, except for Breck, who still didn't know if she was the highest E-Bay bidder on Boromir, and Piggy, who had fallen down Legolas's shirt... but the other two were happy, nonetheless.
And that's how they learned the true meaning of Lubamas.
END.
Some messages for Hooloovoo:
I just realized that Piggy has the same name as Piggy. Trippy!
The GrammarCheck thing wanted me to change "... all the fried squirrel you can juggle," to "... the entire fried squirrel you can juggle." (snort) WTF, mates?
I love you!