A Bridge Too Farce
I say to you, if you go to Moreeka, beware! There be a monstrous parody here!
The Fellowship of the Cup is running away, trying to get across the Bridge of Kaffé-doom to escape the terror of the darkness of Moreeka. They hurry through the dangerous and crowded café, threatened constantly by horc and gobblings, and bored children wielding sharpened crayons and popular movie-merchandise toys (choking hazard: ask for alternate toy for ages under three).
"Look ahead," called Gandgulp, "The bridge is near. It is dangerous and narrow. Run straight across and no base-jumping! Fly!"
"If I could fly," muttered Legolatté to Gemli, "I wouldn't need the bungee-cord!"
Suddenly NescaFrodo saw before him a black chasm. At the end of the hall the floor vanished and fell to an unknown depth. The exit door could only be reached by a slender bridge of stone, without kerb or rail, clearly in violation of Elvish safety regulations, that spanned the chasm with one curving spring of fifty feet. They could only pass across it in single file. Gandgulp halted at the brink and the others came up in a pack behind.
"Who crosses first?" asked NescaFrodo, ducking a McKing Burger Alien Pirate Transformer thrown by a junior horc-imp who was dissatisfied with his 'unhappy meal'.
"Age goeth before beauty," said Gandgulp, shoving Legolatté behind him.
"Height goeth before hair," said the Elf, pushing Gemli back.
"Girth goeth before majesty," said the Dwarf, stepping before Aromagorn.
"Stealth goeth before strength," quipped the Ranger, cutting off Boromocha.
"Pride goeth before a fall," quoth Boromocha, and he picked up the half-caffs one by one and tossed them across the chasm like little screaming footballs.
There was a deafening roar behind them, and the noises sounded again in the deep, Chugga chugga! Shhhhhhhhh! Shhhhhhhhh! Like an espresso machine from the very café of Danté. Everyone turned around and stared at the vision of horror that had arose behind them.
"Ai! A foulgrog! A foulgrog has come!" cried Legolatté, zipping past Gandgulp and tearing across the bridge, with Gemli, Aromagorn, and Boromocha on his heels.
Gandgulp crossed after them, and remained bravely in the center of the bridge, brandishing his staff and speaking boldly, "You cannot pass! I am a servant of the Secret Beans, wielder of the sword Glamdrink! You cannot pass!"
The foulgrog reached the bridge. What it was could not at first be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to go with it and before it.
"Whadd'r you kids doin' playin' here?" it growled, hitching its sagging trousers up only for its heavy utility belt to drag them down again. It was clad in a brown uniform, and there was a tarnished badge on its chest. "Can'tcha read the sign? 'No Loitering' it says! Get outta here a'fore I call yer folks! I know yer dad!"
"Is it the Parody Police?" asked NescaFrodo, trembling in terror.
"No, just an Insecurity Guard," said Aromagorn. "I have dealt with their kind before. They are full of their own authority and a lot of donuts. Gandgulp shall withstand him," he added confidently, as he edged toward the exit, dragging the half-caffs with him.
Gandgulp remained on the bridge, waving his staff and sword, hoping the foulgrog would retreat to its den and resume eating cold pizza and watching re-runs of Matlock. "You cannot pass! The nightstick of Udûng will not avail you, rent-a-cop! You cannot pass!"
The foulgrog made no answer. It stepped forward slowly onto the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its cubby backside spread from wall to wall. "Don't make me say it again, shorty! Scram, or I'll use the pepper spray!"
The narrow bridge suddenly buckled under the vast monstrosity, collapsing under the weight of its ego alone. Gandgulp scrambled vainly for the edge of the chasm, but he slipped and fell into the abyss with the foulgrog, which was waving its plastic handcuffs and complaining about its loss of benefits. There came a last message from the wizard as he disappeared into the darkness, barely heard.
"What was that he said?" asked NescaFrodo, dashing the tears from his eyes; he was sure they'd never see their wise and brave companion again. "Did he say 'Fly, you fools?' "
"No," answered Legolatté, "he said, 'I wish I could fly'. Let us leave this place! We cannot help him now! Run this way!"
"If I could run that way, I wouldn't need the talcum power," retorted Gemli.
They ran for the exit, clearly marked with a red neon sign, stumbling wildly up the stairs toward the door. Aromagorn was leading them, Boromocha in the rear. NescaFrodo heard Sanka weeping beside him, and he found that he, too, was rather upset that Gandgulp had been taken from them. What foul luck! Chugga chugga! Shhhhh! Shhhhhh! Went the steam-jet behind them, scorching Boromocha's heels with scalding milk.
They ran on, heedless of the toll-trolls waiting beside the exit for payment for using the bridge. The company swept past them, and Aromagorn flashed his public service ID at them as they ran past, out into the sunlight and away from the clotted darkness and despair. They had escaped.
They did not halt until they were far away from the doors. Grief overcame them at last, there were some tears and some choice language that cannot be posted, and everyone felt really bad until they realized that Gandgulp was listed for film-credits on the next two pictures.
"Mayhap they are but flashbacks," muttered Boromocha, looking back toward the Black Café darkly.
MochaMerry laughed and said, "No way! That would mean that any of us could die at... any... moment... uh, oh!" he glanced at his highly expendable cousin and gulped.
Suddenly NescaFrodo begins to slap at his pockets. "OH NO!" he wailed, "The Coffee Ring! I loaned it to Gandgulp just before he fell into the abyss!"
The Fellowship exclaimed in dismay, but NescaFrodo chuckled and held up the Coffee Ring, saying, "Psych!" The Fellowship let out its collective breath and glared at NescaFrodo.
"Worry not about Gandgulp," said Aromagorn. "We must go on! He would want us to, so that the coffee he spilled should not be wasted! Yonder lies the Golden Road of Loriandadanish! There we will find sanctuary and strudel! Come quickly!"
Boromocha did not move. "Is there no other way?" he asked.
"Just follow the Gold-cobbled Path!" said Aromagorn. "What fairer way would you desire?"
"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of hogs! It is said in the land of my people that the Gold-cobbled Path to Loriandadanish if fraught with peril. I don't know what 'fraught' means, but the 'peril' part suggests that it is not a good thing!"
"There is no evil in the land of Loriandadanish. One should only fear gaining a few pounds, drinking its sugary streams and sampling endless cherry cheesecake ice-cream. Trust me."
"Lead on, then, or lead back! Men of Monodrama do not fear cheesecake! We desire only the freedom to drink coffee, and eat breakfast food at dinnertime! I cannot stomach pancakes in the morning!"
"Me neither," said Aromagorn, "but first, our Coffee-Bearer seems to have fallen behind! Hail, NescaFrodo, are you hurt?"
NescaFrodo looked at him blankly. "No, I'm just fine," he said. Aromagorn turned him around and found an arrow with a rubber tip stuck to his back. The Ranger pulled it off with a smock and frisked the half-caff for other wounds.
NescaFrodo seemed reluctant to have his garments touched. He slapped Aromagorn's hands away, saying, "I'm fine, I said! I am just tired from running! I just need a cup of coffee and some rest!"
"No, NescaFrodo, we must see what damage has been done. Strip him," he said to the other half-caffs, who then mugged NescaFrodo and left him standing in his mithril longjohns that had been a parting gift from his uncle Bilbean.
"No wonder you weren't cold when we climbed the mountain!" said Drippin and MochaMerry. "No fair!" Everyone laughed.
"Do you mind?" asked NescaFrodo frostily, snatching back his clothes and getting dressed, his fair cheeks reddened with embarrassment. (mithril was nice, but nobody enjoys standing in their drop-bottom drawers in front of a crowd of their peers, peering at him)
Suddenly a strange Elf dropped out of a tree and landed in front of the Fellowship. "Daro Kline Calvÿne! (nice under-roos, mate!)" he said, bowing gracefully. "Welcome to Loriandadanish! You haven't seen a dark-haired wench with a little grey cat, an aluminum lumberjack, a sawdust-filled straw golem, and a timid were-cat, have you?"
Aromagorn shook his head, "Sorry, Charlie; wrong parody! We're the Fellowship of the Cup. Reservations for nine, less one."