How To Die in Middle-earth – A Collection of Short Stories — part 6

by May 30, 2005Stories


How to Die in Middle-earth
A Collection of Short Stories – Part 6

Disclaimer: It’s not my fault, I swear. I didn’t invent anything Tolkien or some other person invented. Please don’t sue me. (Or Mary-sue me, which is worse.)
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The Sea

You may all be familiar with the old “Elves are obsessed with the Sea” thing. Well, let me tell you this: it’s true. But have you ever heard what happens to those elves who weren’t very good sailors?

The first was an elf named Mr. Elf (he subscribed to the New York Times), and he decided to build a boat. Out of old tradition, he named it the Titanic. It’s interesting how quickly icebergs can form in Middle-earth.

The second was called Noah, and he felt a calling to build an ark. Sadly, Noah did not realize the difference between a calling and a Calling (mainly the capital `C’) and therefore spent many long years trying to haul a fully-assembled ark from Rivendell, where it had been assembled, to the Sea. Needless to say, by the time he had actually gotten it there (after thousands of years), all the other Elves had already left and hobbits and dwarves were so scarce they didn’t really exist anymore. The media, however, was overjoyed at finding an ark with a bottom in very bad shape, near the sea shore. Incidentally, they may have read into the whole thing incorrectly.

The third was a Mary-Sue by the name of X. She was far too cool to have more than one name, one syllable or no brain. Sadly, (ha, yeah, right), this Mary-sue decided that Middle-earth was flat and she wanted to go and look at the edge. This would have been very foolish on a truly flat world, as she surely would have died, but on Middle-earth it was doubly so, because Here Be There So Many Monsters That You Won’t Possibly Live Long Enough To See If The World Is Flat Or Round, And Who Cares Anyway?


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Joe Porkus was not an Average American. It is the opinion of much of the world that Americans tend to be fat and really love McDonald’s. This is not true. Leastwise, their spicy chicken sandwiches are good, and their salads, although overpriced, aren’t bad. But those things they call burgers are much too thin and dry and they insist on smothering everything in the most abhorrent substances. I speak, of course, of ketchup and mustard, with the occasional dash of sour cream.

Although, in all truth, even those are better than the Pickles of Doom.

What all this nonsense is leading up to is the fact that Joe Porkus was actually one of the few Americans who adored Micky D’s, and would probably have sued them for making him so fat, except for the fact that he was now too heavy to ever leave the sofa.

This left Joe Porkus with a great problem. No, not his weight: his bulk meant that he could not get to a McDonald’s (which, it should be mentioned, despite it’s love for mustard at least has decent fries, where as Burger (ah ha, Booger) King’s fries are terribly limp and soggy and never have the right amount of salt.) So Joe had to, of course, buy his own McDonald’s and set it up inside his house. Unfortunately, Joe, who had never worked in his life, was living with his poverty-stricken sister who struggled to maintain his food habits as they were. She constantly felt like she was going mad under the pressure of spending several hundred dollars a day on Joe.

When Joe made this new investment with money she didn’t have, he went over the top, and his sister cursed him.

By strange and rare coincidence, this curse bouncing inside a parallel-universe-quantum-foam worm-hole thingy and somehow, in a scientifically magic manner, sent her brother and his McDonald’s to Middle-earth, where they landed high in Lothlorien, on one of the trees.

Not-so-sadly, the poor tree couldn’t stand the weight of Joe (comparatively, the McDonald’s was not very heavy) and collapsed, killing him. Later, when the Elves came to investigate, they wondered how a mutated Oliphant (for what else could such a massive beast be?) had managed to fall from the sky, or otherwise ascend one of their beautiful trees.

Later, they had a period of mourning. For the tree.

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Flit flit, flit flit. A butterfly flew over the Old Forest.

Flit flit. The tongue of a hungry lizard flicked out and consumed the butterfly.

Yum, it thought, and flitted down the trunk of the tree.


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Author’s Note:

Um, hi. I wrote another part. I’m not sure why. However, if you do decide to read this, thank you, and please review. It makes my day.

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