Repost: RE: E-text: IV.12 (Longish)
Nick Tussing
take
this opportunity to get rid of some of the annoying computer grot that seems
to have afflicted my chapter; apparently Word and Usenet don't mix. But the
grot seemed to vahish when I got into "reply" mode, so I hope it's been
exorcised.
>Well, here it is. I apologize for the length of this chapter; but I
>couldn't make it any shorter without axing struff I thought necessary.
>
>I've included some fairly radical plot-twists, which i hope won't
>inconvenience Matt Dragonfly and my other successors too much. (To
>stay on the safe side, I will *knot* be opening nay ticking
>packages:-].) Eople can, I am sure, do whatever they want with the
>data I've supplied in this cahpter; all I ask is that no one turn my
>cahpter into a dream:-].
>
>Nayway, I hope you all enjoy it; please let me know if you do.
>
>IV.12.Shelob¡¯s Nightclub
>
> It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents ¡ª
>except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust
>of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in Mordor that our scene
>lies, or close enough as no matter), rattling along the housetops, and
>fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled
>against the darkness. Sam thought he heard the sound track to some
>horror flick or other, but couldn't be sure.
>He was standing around awkwardly holding the apparently defunct
>Frodo¡¯s leash, in the magnificent piazza that formed the centre
>of Cirith Ungallant. Gulible looked at him with irritation, the
>bouncer, an immaculately clad Orc, with mild amusement. Fearful, and
>yet insidiously attractive was the vista that opened itself before his
>eyes, like that of a B-rated horror film combined with that of a
>science-fiction dictatorship combined with that of a second-rate
>pornographic film. The setting was very noir, with much chiaroscuro,
>like the old Batman comics in the youth of the Shire. Out of the
>corner of his eye, he thought he saw a vehicle on which was written
>the words ¡°Mystery Machine.¡± The female pulchritude on
>display assaulted his senses like unto the onslaught of
>Mordred¡¯s forces upon the Vale of Gondolas.
>An eeresome Nightclub, bedight with Halloweenery and enshrouded in
>bright tang-coloured orange, lowered before their awe-stricken gaze.
>They beheld on its steps many a jack-o-lantern, within which flickered
>a deadly sheen, a corpse-light, a light that illuminated nothing (or
>so Frodo always said; but Sam and Spiegel thought it was marvellous
>¡ª ¡°just like Times Square,¡± the latter would say,
>cryptically). Resplendent with neon lights was the Nightclub, and
>bedight with a thousand posters such as simply would not have been
>allowed in the Shire. A spider-motif dominated the building, with
>iron gates and fences, as well as windows, filigreed in the manner of
>spider webs. They were come to the most fashionable district west of
>Barad-dûr, and the bat-motif of the older-buildings was nowhere to be
>found. The Halloween kitsch filled Sam with a sense of dread.
>¡°I do believe in spooks,¡± he muttered in a Brooklynese
>accent. Most terrifying of all was the entrance, with its
>incandescent jack-o-lanterns and plastic ghosts and skeletons; an
>enormous rubber spider hung from one of the towers. On a large neon
>sign they beheld the words ¡°Hselob¡¯s Niggitculb,¡±
>written in teuncwar.
>But at the moment, Sam had a more immediate concern. It appeared that
>he had tied Frodo¡¯s collar a little too tight, motivated perhaps
>by some unconscious desire to get rid of the ugly and sexually
>challenged reactionary decadent exploitative despicable bastard; but
>he was not yet dead.
>¡°With slow, stupid hobbit¡¯s lab kit, we might be able to
>do something, my preciousss,¡± muttered Gulible. ¡°Fork it
>over, saddam!¡±
>Reluctantly, Sam obeyed, and Gulible got to work with practiced
>expertise: he examined the contents of Sam¡¯s laboratory kit,
>grunted with satisfaction, and then mixed the contents of various
>test-tubes together with the air of one who knows exactly what he is
>doing.
>¡°Don Giovanni hass produced a chemical compound that will revive
>nasty rich hobbit,¡± he said at length. ¡°It will also
>causse a /very/ ssslight reduction in the patient¡¯ss erotic
>madness, precious. It may have some side-effects, owing to the
>predominance of 2-amino-2-deoxy-[ ¡¡±
>¡°Just gie it to the scoundrel!¡± said Sam.
>Gulible carefully poured the contents of one of his test-tubes down
>Frodo¡¯s left nostril. After a bit of wheezing and coughing,
>Frodo sat up and blinked his eyes in confusion.
> ¡°Where am I?¡± he asked. ¡°I feel ¡ different.
> I no longer need to have sex all the time; only three fourths of it.
>And I am no longer sexually attracted to everything I see, only most
>things.¡±
>¡°Pretty impressive, Giovannino!¡± said the bouncer.
>¡°Aw, shucksses; biochemistry is just one of our hobbies,
>/saddam/,¡± replied Gulible.
>The bouncer was about to reply when Spiegel came back from the
>restroom, bubbling with delight.
> ¡°What a wonderful country this is!¡± she cried. ¡°I
>entered the women¡¯s room, fully expecting to find some
>disgusting hole in the ground, as in the Shire. Instead, I beheld an
>object of great beauty: a large white porcelain bowl, full of limpid
>water, and behind it a rectangular white tank adorned with a
>mysterious metal handle. How clean and lovely it is! I nabbed a
>towel on the way out ¨C may I keep it?¡±
>¡°It¡¯s all yours, ma¡¯am,¡± said the bouncer
>politely. This was the First Towel.
> ¡°Yet another modern improvement of whilk the oppressors hae
>depreeved us,¡± observed Sam.
> ¡°Um, who¡¯s that guy?¡± asked Spiegel, referring to
>the ubiquitous portraits of a guy who looked like a head with an
>enormous eye in the middle, but no torso to speak of.
> ¡°Yon must be Sauron,¡± said Sam. ¡°Dinna ye see the
>posters, urging all tae ¡®Adore Sauron, Our Beloved
>Leader,¡¯ or pointing out that ¡®Sauron Loves You,
>Especially If You¡¯re Female¡¯?¡±
> ¡°He¡¯s handsome!¡± gushed Spiegel. ¡°I wonder
>if he has a girlfriend?¡±
> ¡°He doessss, my precioussss,¡± said Gulible.
>¡°Look!¡± He pointed at a portrait of a scantily clad
>eight-legged woman with a very voluptuous bosom, underwritten
>¡°Shelob Is the Love of Sauron¡¯s Life.¡±
> ¡°Well, at least thanks to Boromir(tm) and Sa ¡ y ¡
>well, that really good-looking guy who makes love like a mûmak in
>heat, I know I¡¯m not ugly,¡± sighed Spiegel. ¡°But if
>only I could have a guy who actually loved me for myself instead of
>lusting for my famous bosom just once in my life, I could die happy.
>/Our bodies are not our selves./¡± Sam said nothing, but tried
>to control the ravenous desire that devoured his limbs like unto a
>bevy of hobbits in a mushroom-patch. Gulible made no such effort, but
>slobbered openly. Fortunately, their attention was distracted
>somewhat by the lovelies on view; for the loremasters say that
>Shelob¡¯s Nightclub gave a new meaning to the phrase,
>¡°nekkid wimmin.¡±
> ¡°May you soon get your wish,¡± said the bouncer to
>Spiegel, with deep sincerity. The bouncer was an attired in an elegant
>uniform emblazoned with the Eye of Sauron and the Web of Shelob. He
>looked very sharp, if somewhat swarthy and brachycephalic, as befits
>demonized Others.
>¡°This place is so beautiful!¡± said Spiegel wistfully.
>¡°Please tell us where we are!¡±
> ¡°This is Shelob¡¯s Nightclub, the Wonder of the World,
>owned and operated by the wogah of Sauron the Great,¡± he
>replied. ¡°Gorbush at your service,¡± he added, kissing
>Spiegel¡¯s hand. ¡°Would you like to come in?¡±
> ¡°Aye,¡± said Sam. ¡°We would.¡±
> ¡°I would need to question this lady in private, first,¡±
>said Gorbush, but his voice and the look he gave Spiegel made it only
>too evident what kind of ¡°questioning¡± he had in mind.
> Spiegel smiled. ¡°That seems only reasonable.¡±
> ¡°Enchanted,¡± said Gorbush, and the twain went off, arm in
>arm, to some obscure side-room or other. As they watched her, Sam and
>Gulible were seething with lust and jealousy; Frodo, on the other
>hand, was distracted by the torment of the Stone, which made him lust
>after fishes, and of the Ring, which made him believe he had a chance
>in Angband of seducing them. Spiegel was apparently taking her time.
>
> After an hour or two Spiegel came back with Gorbush on her arm.
>¡°Gorbush is a really sensitive guy,¡± she said. ¡°He
>writes poetry and really knows how to make a girl go wogah!¡± Sam
>and Gulible¡¯s eyes bored into the Orc¡¯s face with all the
>benevolent subtlety of a Mentish laser ray.
> ¡°I did not realize your situation was so bleak,¡± said
>Gorbush. ¡°This lovely lady¡± ¡ª he stroked
>Spiegel¡¯s long, silky-soft hair ¡ª ¡°is worth a
>hundred floor shows. You can go in, but I¡¯m going to have to
>escort you, in order to protect the lady. We have to be careful, on
>account of that evil drug cartel.¡±
> ¡°Dinnae mention the Ring, master!¡± cried Sam, before
>suddenly realizing his mistake. ¡°Och nae!¡± he groaned in
>despair. ¡°/If ye keep openin¡¯ your big mouth ye¡¯ll
>end up betrayin¡¯ the Cause/, as me gaffer always used tae say,
>and that¡¯s a fact. /Ye¡¯re nocht but a Menshevik,/ he
>mostways used to add. But I¡¯ll nae be captured by Sauron that
>easily. I¡¯ll sell me life dearly.¡± He took out his sword
>and drew it.
> ¡°What are you getting so operatic about?¡± inquired
>Gorbush, apparently taking little interest in the Ring. ¡°You
>are our honoured guests. Both Shelob and Sauron will be eager to meet
>you. You will be spending the night in the Nightclub¡¯s
>guest-quarters until Sauron the Great can find you more worthy
>lodgings. But for now, would you like to enjoy the floor show? There
>is nothing to fear.¡±
> Sam wasn¡¯t so sure, as he heard a shrieking sound issuing from
>the bowels of one of the guardrooms: it might have been a damned
>spirit, it might have been an Elvish captive, it might have been an
>inebriated Balrog, it might even have been Maria Khallas, but it was
>probably someone enjoying the floor show a leetle too much. His
>curiosity overcame his fear. Anyway, they had no other plan at the
>moment, so they followed the Orc into the Nightclub. When Gorbush
>uttered the password /Trick or treat/, Frodo could not suppress a
>shudder.
> Ignoring the remarks of the habitués, like ¡°Not from around
>here,¡± and ¡°The clientele are becoming frightfully
>common,¡± the companions entered and gazed at the bright lights
>and gorgeous semi-clad beauties such as Hugh Hefnaistos, who was what
>passed among the Valar for the God of Wisdom, might have dreamed up in
>a delirium. One of them, a very provocatively dressed blowfish, was
>ensconced inside an aquarium tank. Orcs silently served the companions
>picturesque local alcoholic beverages.
> ¡°These are the ¡®Rog Grisettes,¡± said Gorbush after
>the party had stared at the beauties for several minutes? hours? days?
>¡ª for they soon lost all sense of time and distance.
>¡°Except that one of them ¡ª Froufrou ¡ª is a blowfish.
>That¡¯s a little kinky for my tastes ...¡±
>The Balrog Grisettes pitilessly exposed their loveliness to Sam and
>Gulible¡¯s heterosexual gaze. Whether Sam too had some cursed
>article of clothing ¨C like everyone else (possibly his socks)
>¨C or the lustful side of his personality, which Spiegel called
>Kinko, was once again gaining the upper hand over the loyal
>revolutionary (whom she called Pinko), this tale does not tell.
>Frodo had eyes only for Froufrou the blowfish, or else for his
>shoelaces. The sinuous sensuality of her scales made him go wogah.
>For need drove him.
>¡°I want to grip her smooth, scaly body between my ¡¡±
> ¡°I dinnae want to hear it,¡± said Sam. ¡°I was sick
>of your sex life months ago, an¡¯ that¡¯s a
>facht!!!!!¡±
>Things got even worse for the hobbits when the Grisettes began to sing
>a tune by Orc-operetta composer Lehár:
>
>/Tra-la-la-la-la-la-lally!
>Trippel trapp and trippel trapp!
>Welcome all to Shelob¡¯s Valley,
>Trippel trapp and trippel trapp!
>
>We are the ¡®Rog Grisettës,
>have wings and castañetas:
>Lolo, Dodo, Joujou, Cloclo, Froufrou, Morgot.../
>
>(But Froufrou of course sang ¡°fins,¡± not
>¡°wings.¡±)
>
>Frodo¡¯s heart caught fire; and without thinking of what he did,
>whether he acted out of folly, despair, courage, or insatiable lust,
>he jumped onto the stage and into the aquarium, taking the phial in
>his left hand while he caressed Froufrou the Fish with his right,
>before kissing her ardently. Then he belted ¡°Et moi!¡±
>¡ª upon which he promptly stared at his shoelaces again while
>Froufrou laughed provocatively. The audience roared its approval.
> But there are other powers in Muddle-earth, powers of the night; and
>they are tildy and strong. And She who dwelt in the darkness had
>heard the Elves give that cry in the depths of time, and it had not
>troubled her then; nor did it now. While Frodo spoke, he felt a great
>malevolence directed towards him and a deadly gaze. The coming threat
>was at last unveiled. For Shelob, when she appeared, was even hotter
>than her posters had depicted her. The glow of the star-glass was
>broken by the thousands of facets of her bosoms, but behind the
>glitter a deadly flame began to glow, kindled by evil thoughts.
>Monstrous and lasciviously half-closed eyes she had, but guided by a
>goal and a dread purpose, and they gloated over their prey that sat
>helpless without any hope of escape; either that, or Frodo had had far
>too much fermented bat¡¯s blood (or was it a side-effect from
>Gulible¡¯s medicine?), for Sam and Gulible recollected nothing
>more untoward than an unusual degree of female pulchritude.
>There long had she dwelt, a sensual creature in Maidenform ?(or out
>of it, as the case might be) ¡ª the same as of old dwelt in the
>land of the Elves that has sunk beneath a mounting pile of debt; like
>unto those whom Bluto had tried to seduce in the Mountains of Wogah in
>Doriath and had come long ago over the green grass in Lustianne. How
>Shelob came to Mordor, fleeing from her creditors, no tale tells; for
>few accounts remained open in the Dark Years. But she was there
>still, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stones of the
>Barad-dûr Museum, Opera-House, Fortress of Dread, and Ballet Theatre
>were laid; she had built her nightclub there, gouging the wallets of
>Elves and Men.
>Then Sauron had shown her what wogah was really all about, and her
>bosom became swollen and fat from continuous stimulation in
>Sauron¡¯s revels. For all portions of the female anatomy were
>Sauron¡¯s food, and Shelob¡¯s pheronomes were darkness. Far
>and wide were scattered their offspring ¡ª even as far as the
>Shire ¡ª bastards of their miserable mates, whom they had rather
>left holding the baby. But none of Sauron¡¯s women could rival
>her, Shelob the Great, hottest babe of Ungallant to wogah the tildy
>world.
> And as for Sauron, he knew where she lay. And it pleased him that
>she should dwell there, hungry but undiminished in physical
>attributes, a more insatiable nymphomaniac than his own fantasies
>could have devised. Orc-maidens had made nice enough concubines, but
>he had them in plenty, and after all, they lacked the sexual capacity
>of the Maiar. Shelob had that and to spare. And as a man may throw a
>dainty to his cat (¡°his cat,¡± he calls her, but she owns
>him not), so Sauron had added various adornments and beautification
>projects to Shelob¡¯s Nightclub, making it the gaudiest such
>institution west of Minas Vegas.
> Shelob sauntered onto the stage, gnawing the skull of the Hobbits
>dared not guess what creature, but they were sure it tasted just like
>chicken. A loud chord resounded in the orchestra. As Gulible gazed
>upon her lascivious form, he was filled with an intense, almost
>uncontrollable desire to wogah her, were it only symbolically.
>¡°Ah, could we but pierces her with /something/...!¡± he
>thought, as he experienced a physical reaction to her figure.
>Forgotten as the snows of yesteryear (for the moment) was his burning
>passion for Spiegel ¡ª much to the latter¡¯s relief. She
>sang the following csárdás with such intensity that the evil Gandalf
>himself, had he heard it, would have wept:
>
>/Vere dvells ze lawve zen?
>Ho can me tellink?
>Vere dvells ze lorve zen?
>Ho ken I eszkink?/
>
>Then she ripped into the fast movement like a thunderstorm over the
>steppes of Rhûn:
>
>/Juszt vonce to vogah, vogah, vogah, vogah,
>On ze puszta, by ze Volga,
>Juszt vonce to get it on!/
>
> The hobbits¡¯ blood was churning like a samovar kindled by the
>Magic Sun, and when she repeated the song, her passion enflamed the
>Nightclub to such an extent that the thermometer went up at least
>twenty degrees Fahrenheit.
> When the guys had recovered, they were gazing upon Shelob with the
>gaze of the damned. ¡°How charmink to meet you, dahlink!¡±
>she said to Frodo. ¡°May I invite you and your friends to spend
>the night and tomorrow to join me for a small, private luncheon for
>six (not countink ze dancink girrls, off curse)?¡±
> ¡°Six?¡± repeated Frodo, puzzled.
> ¡°Vell, yess! You, your sree friends, myself, and Sauron ze
>Great...¡±
> ¡°Ulp!¡± stammered Frodo. ¡°Sauron, er, um, what does
>he want with me?¡±
> ¡°Ve have much to discuss,¡± said Shelob, with a cryptic
>smile. ¡°Your estate, for eenstance...¡±
> ¡°Oh, my estate!¡± said Frodo with a sigh of relief.
> ¡°Yes, vat did you sink it vas?¡± said Shelob. ¡°I
>hope you not gettink your image of me from zose sensationalistic
>movies starring Humphr?Bogart.¡± Frodo was nonplussed.
> ¡°Gorbush!¡± Shelob whispered to that worthy. ¡°Take
>zese guests to ze Lairr! Lurtz, you take Gorbush¡¯s place!¡±
>
> Gorbush led them through the plush, if creepy, vestibule to the
>elevators, and they travelled up to the thirty-second floor. Unknown
>to the hobbits was this dwimmercaft, and they were sore adrad. The
>omnipresent velvet and gilt spider motif began to get rather
>oppressive. After letting Frodo into an incredibly palatial room fit
>for a conquering hero or a tobacco lobbyist (with its own aquarium),
>Gorbush let Sam and Spiegel into a neighbouring room, apologizing
>profusely for the fact that there were not enough rooms for them to be
>separated at the moment. Gulible could barely contain his jealous
>rage. Gorbush, under the impression that the latter was a pet, at
>first put him in a kennel; then, on discovering his mistake, put him
>in a small room not far from Sam and Spiegel¡¯s. The orc made
>some polite apologies to Sam and Spiegel for having to leave them and,
>after gallantly handing Spiegel a book of his poems autographed with
>seven or eight improvised poems in her honour ¡ª some of them
>rather explicit ¡ª he left.
>
> Spiegel quickly hid the book of poems in her bra. She was intent
>upon exploring their room, which was filled with books with titles
>like /Nymphomaniacs and Their Ways: Towards a Porno-Ethics of
>Existentiality/ and /Are Ments a Myth?/ The walls, ceiling and
>bedclothes were covered with the usual spider-motif. So was the
>bath-towel that Sam sequestered for his own use (this was the Second
>Towel). On the mantelpiece there were several Lladr?figurines of
>spiders, Balrogs, Orcs, and other Mordor species, dressed in
>picturesque native garb. Spiegel picked up the rather hefty tome
>entitled /Blueprint for the New Order/, by Sauron, and started leafing
>through it ¡ª murmuring things like, ¡°So that¡¯s what
>Gorbush meant when he said Sauron has solutions for the evils that
>bedevil Western society¡± or ¡°He is a visionary!¡± or
>¡°Imagine a society based upon love!¡±
>¡°What next?¡± said Sam, subtly ripping off his shirt.
> ¡°Oh, Sam,¡± she said tenderly, ¡°It was you who
>awakened me to the fact that I am indeed sexually attractive. I owe
>you so much! But can¡¯t you see that it was not meant to be? You
>must be loyal to Rosie, and I must be true to Gorbush, who alone truly
>/loves/ me! He massaged me for a whole hour before /smygelling/
>me!¡±
> ¡°Very well ,¡± said Sam with resignation. ¡°If ye
>need me, I¡¯ll be in the bathroom.¡± He was there for quite
>a long time.
> Spiegel felt a little bad about her treatment of Sam, but she knew
>that after sleeping with Gorbush she could never again have another
>guy ¨C not even Sam, however fond she was of the latter. For his
>lust was not her lust. Little she knew of towers, rings, or
>Politburos, who desired only the joy of all other living things, and
>for herself an all-encompassing love, swollen till the mountains could
>no longer contain it, or the darkness circumscribe it.
>
>Next morning Sam and Spiegel took Gulible to Frodo¡¯s room, and
>naturally found the boss firmly ensconced in the aquarium. Sam fished
>Frodo out. While his boss was getting cleaned up and dressed, Sam,
>under some mysterious inspiration, sang ¡°Se vuol ballare, signor
>Frodino¡± in an unknown and sinister language that filled Frodo
>with dread.
>When Gorbush came with breakfast; Spiegel leapt into his arms. After
>they had exchanged a few amorous pleasantries, Gorbush turned to the
>others and said, ¡°The reason I¡¯ve come is to inform you
>that Shelob ¡ª and later our Beloved Leader, Sauron the Great
>¡ª will be coming shortly to honour you with a visit. You are
>indeed high in his favour! I can¡¯t stay, I¡¯m afraid. But
>I¡¯ll be back later when the coast is clear. Have a nice
>day!¡± With that he hastily left ¡ª after Orkish-kissing
>Spiegel for about twenty minutes.
> The hobbits barely had time to agree not to say anything about the
>Ring (¡°the present,¡± as Don Giovanni mysteriously called
>it), when Shelob arrived in a black negligée that flattered her figure
>yet more than had the white gauze she had worn the night before. She
>chatted with the hobbits about this and that ¡ª the weather in
>the Ethel Duwap, the fashions of Minas Goofy, the latest gossip about
>the Leechking¡¯s love-life ¡ª taking a great interest in
>their travels. Presently, however, she turned to Spiegel and crooned:
> ¡°My dahlink child, do you have any idea who you really
>are?¡±
> ¡°Well, all I know is that I always thought I was fat until the
>late Boromir(tm) and ¡ that other guy, my true friends, showed
>me that I am not ugly. It took Gorbush to show me that I am indeed
>beautiful and worthy of love.¡± She wept tears of pure joy.
> ¡°You are my descendant, ze rightful heir to Rivendell. El Rond
>is a usurper who would never have gotten anywhere had he not been one
>of the hangers-on of ze despicable Gandalf ¡ª procured animals
>for heem, I believe, or somesink eqvally disgusting... In truth it
>vas Steinlob the Feminist whose labors made Rivendell possible. I am
>Steinlob¡¯s daughter, and you are my
>great-great-great-great-granddaughter by Smaug, vich ees givink you
>dragon-blood. Zat vas before I met Saury and discovered ze true
>meanink of vogah. Ven my hubby delivers ze lands of ze Vest from ze
>yoke of zeir current imperialist-hegemonist-neofascist runnink dogs,
>ve shall restore you to your rightful place.¡±
> Spiegel¡¯s eyes shone. ¡°And Gorbush will rule Rivendell
>by my side!¡± she gushed.
> ¡°Vatever you vant, dahlink,¡± said Shelob, affectionately
>kissing Spiegel. ¡°And ve have summoned Cassiopeia Took back to
>Mordor so zat she can return ze Dress to you. And you¡¯ll get
>your identity back. It von¡¯t have ze disgustink stains on it
>eizerr ¡ª ze dress, not ze identity, ahf coarrse.¡±
>Spiegel laughed through her tears. Then she asked, ¡°Is there any
>way I can arrange therapy sessions with Deeanna Troll? An eagle
>recommended her to me and gave me her business card.¡±
> ¡°Ve vill speak of ziz later,¡± said Shelob, glowering at
>the mention of Deeanna Troll. ¡°But I sink eet not necessary eef
>you gettink ze dress back.¡±
> Presently there was another knock at the door, quiet, but portentous.
> As Sam opened the door, he beheld a legion of female Orcs, fawning
>all over none other than the dread Sauron in person. Sam easily
>recognized him from the portraits he had seen, but yet more from the
>sinister menace of his urbanity, the elegant veneer of malignancy that
>concealed a fundamental dorkiness. Sauron waved a gloved hand, and
>the Orcs vanished.
> ¡°So many female admirers,¡± he sighed. ¡°A wise
>loremaster once pointed out that we males are not naturally
>monogamous. Having used the Ring, I¡¯m sure you know what
>it¡¯s like. I am pleased to meet you,¡± he continued in a
>pleasant, yet insidious, baritone, recalling the refined accents of
>Sideshow Bob. ¡°We were so worried that those narcoterrorists
>might have done something nasty to you. The Western part of my domain
>isn¡¯t as safe as I would like; too close to Gondor(tm). I am
>Sauron the Great, at your service.¡±
> Sam smiled grimly, before asking Sauron, ¡°What¡¯s it
>wairth tae ye?¡±
> ¡°What do you mean?¡± inquired Sauron.
> ¡°Dinnae be sae Foucauldian. I ken ye wants the Ring. Mak us
>an offer, or we¡¯ll do nocht, and say nocht.¡±
> Sauron laughed a sonorous laugh. Spiegel began to find him almost
>more irresistable than Gorbush.
> ¡°Oh, the Ring!¡± he smiled. ¡°We can talk about that
>later. Though I wouldn¡¯t use it if I were you; it was really
>only meant for Maiar. And whatever you do, don¡¯t drop it into
>Mt. Viagra, or Gandalf and his evil allies will take over the world
>and enslave everyone and turn them into drugged out zombies without
>hope.¡± The hobbits gasped, but Sauron, after giving them a sad
>smile, continued unperturbed. ¡°I would also avoid using the
>phial in your place, as it is the creation of the evil Fleanor (whom
>the Gnomes call Feenamint) and works his will. But at the moment I
>have to give you important news. For none of you is the insignificant
>halfling that he or she appears to be ¡ª except for you, Gulible,
>or Gullible, or however you¡¯re spelling your /nom de guerre/
>these days. I fear you are but another interesting narrative
>irrelevancy.¡±
> ¡°We not interesting irrelevancy!¡± protested Gulible.
>¡°We Gulible the Great, /the/ Gulible, seduce girlses ten times a
>day ..., Don Giovanni, who bedded 640 women in Bree, 231 in Gundabad,
>100 in Rivendell, 91 in Trollshaws, but, but, but in the Shire, but in
>the Shire, we¡¯ve done 1003 ...!¡±
> ¡°Relax,¡± said Sauron. ¡°We¡¯ll give you a free
>Mordor Credit Card as compensation for not being anyone¡¯s
>descendant. Maybe we¡¯ll even put you in charge of the Shire or
>something.¡±
> Gulible seemed pleased by this notion, for he began to mutter,
>¡°We shall see, my precious! With credit card we¡¯ll pay her
>back! We¡¯ll pay everyone back!¡±
> ¡°Indeed!¡± said Sauron, smiling a mysterious, ambiguous
>smile that could have meant anything from civil acknowledgement of
>Gulible¡¯s somewhat deranged response to a cynical, even sadistic
>amusement. ¡°Let us be at ease,¡± he continued.
>¡°Fermented bat¡¯s blood?¡± He held up a bottle of
>some nasty black liquid. The hobbits all agreed with alacrity, and
>Sauron poured drinks all around, starting with Spiegel, to whom he
>handed a glassful in an elegant mithril demitasse adorned with Balrog
>wings. ¡°The vintage is excellent. It¡¯s been aging ever
>since the forging of the Ring.¡±
> ¡°Ye said ye had news,¡± observed Sam.
> ¡°I do,¡± said Sauron, solemnly. ¡°Frodo, I am your
>father. You are my son and heir. The Nurnenshire estate is but the
>beginning. /If/ you are found worthy, you shall reign over vast
>kingdoms.¡± (There was a subtle hint of doubt in the /if/.)
>¡°I owe you a few birthday presents,¡± he smiled through his
>tears, as the violins played some mushy tune or other. Frodo gaped in
>amaze, while Sam chortled sarcastically behind his hand.
> ¡°B-b-b-but, I thought Bilbo was my father,¡± stammered
>Frodo.
> ¡°He was. But I am your
>great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great
-grandfather.
> A couple of millennia ago, I had a fling with a winsome hobbit-lass
>on the banks of the Anduin, before your people moved out of the range
>of my geographical knowledge. It was a moment of weakness; I was on
>the rebound from Miniwethil, and hadn¡¯t yet translated my
>wogah-WOOOgah with Shelob into something more or less permanent.
>(Ouch, Shelob makes my hands itch.)¡± He stopped for a moment
>and Orkish-kissed Shelob while fondling her passionately. After about
>half an hour, he resumed: ¡°I thought of telling my
>hobbit-descendants the truth, but never met anyone who seemed worthy,
>until I heard of you. I had to disown my brother Saurtre after he got
>involved with those narcoterrorists in the Morgai. Even with you,
>it¡¯s a bit of a stretch, but if you stay away from drugs,
>straighten up your sexual identity, get indoctrinated out of your
>aristocratic ideological presuppositions, pass the test of governing
>the estate in Nurnenshire (which we¡¯re turning into a collective
>farm), and develop something remotely resembling moral fibre, who
>knows? Greatness may well be thrust upon you, my son.¡±
> The hobbits maintained a stunned silence, but Sauron continued his
>exposition.
>¡°Yes, one reason I wanted you here was to protect you from a
>murderous plot hatched by the drug cartel (NICE, also called That
>Hideous Strength) run by Gandalf, El Rond, Tom Bombadildo (whose sex
>life with Goldberry may fairly be deduced from his name), the Talking
>Fox, and the mysterious Brute of Bucklebelt, whose identity I have not
>yet been able to determine, and possibly Galadriel, though my groping
>got me nowhere with her.¡± Shelob gave a baleful glare.
> ¡°O Great Leader!¡± cried Frodo, kneeling. ¡°How can
>I get rid of the phial!? Is there no briar patch into which I can toss
>it? And why did Galadriel ever give it to me? It has inflicted upon me
>a /really/ embarrassing curse.¡±
> ¡°We¡¯ll give it back to Maglor,¡± said Sauron
>casually. ¡°It¡¯s his, he wants it, and frankly he deserves
>it. As for Galadriel, if she cheats on her husband, she can also
>cheat on you.¡±
> ¡°But El Rond ...¡± began Frodo.
> ¡°Yes, I know about all that, having a very effective
>intelligence corps, but since he¡¯s not the rightful ruler of
>Rivendell, we¡¯ll just consider his little document null and
>void.¡±
> ¡°Father!¡± said Frodo, joyfully. ¡°You are gracious
>to me beyond my dessert!¡±
> ¡°We wants CHOKLIT, my precious!¡± interrupted Gulible, his
>eyes turning purple at the mention of ¡°dessert.¡± Silent
>Orc-servants deftly carried out Don Giovanni¡¯s wish, as Sam
>continued to scowl.
> ¡°Weell, if this spineless effeminate bourgeois decadent is the
>descendant of Sauron, I suppose I¡¯m the scion of
>Feenamint,¡± Sam could not quite repress his sarcasm.
> ¡°Not quite,¡± said Sauron with a smile. ¡°However,
>Lenindil ¡ª for that your true name ¡ª you /are/ the heir of
>/Isildur(tm)/.¡±
> ¡°What about Aragon son of Arathon son of Aradud son of
>Arabarf?¡± blurted Frodo.
> ¡°Who, that?¡± said Sauron. ¡°Aragon the Simple!
>Aragon the Fool! But he had just enough wit for the part Gandalf had
>appointed for him. But as for his lineage, it¡¯s forged. The
>truth is, he¡¯s Butterburr¡¯s bastard brother, the son of
>Ted Sandyman and Goldberry.¡±
> ¡°And hoo, pray, do I manage tae be a descendant of
>Isildur(tm)?¡± inquired Sam.
> ¡°It¡¯s easy,¡± said Sauron. ¡°After the
>destruction of Arthurian, Ar-vegetal, the last king, fled to the
>Shire, where he sojourned for a time, and wogahed with one of the more
>bearable ¡ er, lovely hobbit-wenches. You are his most direct
>descendant. When I come into my own, you will be given the realms
>that should rightly be yours.¡±
> ¡°I dinnae believe ye,¡± said Sam, bluntly.
> ¡°Very vell,¡± said Shelob. ¡°Suit yourself.
>Don¡¯t rule ze Reunited Kingdom and eradicate injustice, usink
>your power to furzer ze Revolution. Be a good serrvant and help nice
>masterr.¡±
> ¡°Search within your feelings; you know that what I say is true.
> Besides, would it not be better to be an instrument of peace between
>me and Gondor™?¡± urged Sauron. ¡°We have rather had
>our differences over questions like universal healthcare, flush
>toilets, the relative musical merits of ¡®Casta diva¡¯ and
>¡®When you wish upon a star,¡¯ and who should own Dumbar,
>Land of the Flying Mûmaks. Not to mention the fact that Isildur(tm)
>stole Mini from me...¡± On hearing the name ¡°Mini,¡±
>Shelob stuck a couple of pins into a female voodoo doll. Sauron
>laughed and tickled her bosom.
> Sam was impressed. ¡°Stars and glory!¡± he cried.
>¡°Universal healthcare! The Elves could mak a song aboon that, if
>they heird of it ¡ª¡± (¡°And if they had any decent
>composers,¡± murmured Sauron /sotto voce/.) ¡°In the
>Shire,¡± continued Sam, ¡°ye¡¯d be lucky to get a
>Witch-doctor!¡±
> ¡°Just don¡¯t turn out like Gérard in /Andrea Chénier/,
>Sam,¡± warned Sauron, nonplussing the hobbits (and possibly
>several newsgroup posters).
> ¡°But does this mean we¡¯ll have to turn evil?¡±
>whined Frodo.
> Sauron laughed long and merrily. ¡°Evil?¡± he repeated.
>¡°In what does said evil consist? In providing universal
>healthcare? In being incredibly sexy, albeit in a sinister,
>Scarpia-like way? I have defended my own realm and its people against
>the genocidal Elven-caciques and Dúnedan narcoterrorists who sought to
>wipe out the Orcs. Do genocide and narcoterrorism not strike you as
>evil? My goal, on the other hand, is enlightenment and civilization.
>Indeed, my dream is to spread the glories of bel canto opera to every
>corner of Muddle-earth.¡± He began to sing an obscure Donizetti
>aria in a voice of such beauty, that Spiegel ¡ª along with every
>female Orc in the bulding ¡ª swooned, and Shelob began to kiss
>him passionately while he massaged her lower and upper extremities.
>¡°Rather than being evil,¡± he added, ¡°I prefer to
>think of myself as ambiguous, polyvalent, indeed intertextual.¡±
>He handed Frodo the book entitled /Nymphomaniacs and their Ways: A
>Porno-ethics of Existentiality/. ¡°Take it,¡± he said.
>¡°It¡¯s yours.¡±
>¡°Thank you, father!¡± said Frodo. ¡°Now could I but
>wed Froufrou the Fish, I could die happy.¡±
>¡°We¡¯ll talk about that after the war,¡± said Sauron.
>¡°Or at least, after we¡¯ve gotten rid of the phial. You
>aren¡¯t really yourself just now, I realize,¡± he sighed.
>After patting Frodo on the back, Sauron looked thoughtful for a
>moment.
> ¡°I did once send a plague of plastic white beagles with black
>spots to Gondor(tm), bewritten /Get Mordor. It pays!/¡± he
>mused. ¡°But that was just a prank. Surely my plans to build an
>opera house in Minas Mickey prove my benevolence.¡±
> ¡°Sauron, your words are truth!¡± said Spiegel. ¡°May
>I keep your /Blueprint for a New Order/?¡± she begged.
> ¡°Take anything you wish, my sweet,¡± replied Sauron, the
>mellifluous cadences of his baritone filling Spiegel with a mysterious
>thrill ¡ª or was it dread? Or was it lust?
> Sam was silent for a while, pondering. ¡°Tell me, wha is
>Gandalf?¡± he asked at length.
> ¡°The subject is not a very pleasant one,¡± replied Sauron.
>¡°In Valinor he got by mainly by cheating at poker, and by
>various other lies and machinations. Here in Muddle-earth, his evil
>deeds continued unabated. He was in the pay of everyone (even me,
>occasionally; traitors can be useful), got involved in some disgusting
>genetic experiments which he carried out on Denethor(tm)¡¯s wife
>Clarabella (sometimes rather rudely called ¡°the Cow¡±), and
>generally speaking is the greatest danger to civilization that exists.
> Until he murdered Aruman, even I had no idea of just how evil he
>is.¡± The hobbits were filled with horror, and resolved to join
>Sauron in his glorious struggle against evil. Even Sam had no more
>doubts.
> ¡°How can Gandalf be defeated?¡± asked Spiegel.
> ¡°It is difficult,¡± said Sauron gravely. ¡°As long
>as he has the Elf-ring, no power in Muddle-earth ¡ª not even mine
>¡ª can overpower him. Especially if you throw that ring in Mount
>Viagra...¡±
> ¡°Ve can discuss zis furrzer later,¡± said Shelob.
>¡°Ve should be gettink back to Barad-dûr. Zis is not ze safest
>place to be discussink zese matters.¡±
> ¡°You¡¯re right, my little Morgul-flower, whose blossoms
>unfold like a song of pure ecstasy,¡± replied Sauron, rubbing his
>hands all over her body. ¡°Come, friends! We have much to do.
>The Morgai situation is getting serious.¡±
> Trusting wholly in Sauron and Shelob, the hobbits gladly complied. As
>they went, Sauron sang:
>
> /Moreador, en garde!
> Moreador, Moreador!
> I¡¯m a real wiseguy, the great Sauron
> and rule the fates of Ard¡¯!
> And when we wogah Shelob turns me on,
> she really turns me on!/
>
>The hobbits caught their first glimpse of Mordor. Sam and Frodo gazed
>upon the land with a horrible fascination, while Spiegel looked upon
>it with understanding and love. It was a sight utterly unlike the
>aristocratically anarchic Shire, with its total lack of any concern
>whatsoever with a public sphere independent of the private interests
>of the landed aristocracy and the rentiers that clung, leech-like, to
>their shadow. Still less did it resemble the tourist-ridden sanitized
>but exploitative and other-denying commercial banality of
>Gondor™. But before they could get a clear picture of what it
>did resemble, their reveries were interrupted by a blast from the past
>that they could have lived without.
> Suddenly they heard a dreadsome song, like unto an exhalation of pure
>evil, that Frodo and his companions remembered only too well:
>
>/Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadildo!
>You¡¯re in my way, so I¡¯ll have you killed-o!/
>
>Mingled with this music of iniquity, they heard Boromir™
>whistling his battle-cry ¡°Hi ho, hi ho! Our home is
>Númenor!¡± These deadly foes attacked the hobbits in the company
>of evil narcoterrorists. On hearing the cry ¡°Goons! Hired
>goons!¡± Sam lost consciousness from the force of the onslaught,
>and passed out of all knowledge.
--
Count Menelvagor the Slayer of Killerbytes, Dragon Balrog Baritone, Lord
High Enervator of the Empire of Psot, Editor of Sauron's Diary, and All that
other Goond Struff, Member, TEUNC
Groly to Tyope, and Deeath to Google!
Mailandnews.com: Psotting at the Speed of Quicksand!!
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Killfile RL.
Count Menelvagor
> I'm reposting this since I forgot to cross-post to RABT. I was going to
> take
> this opportunity to get rid of some of the annoying computer grot that seems
> to have afflicted my chapter; apparently Word and Usenet don't mix. But the
> grot seemed to vahish when I got into "reply" mode, so I hope it's been
> exorcised.
Oh, maaaaaaaaaaan! It *still* has computer grot -- even if marginally
less annoying. Perhaps I shd just send it to O. Sharp as an
attachment or something; maybe that way I can keep the quotation marks
and dashes instead getting all this stuffola.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! How annoying!
Johnathan George
Count Menelvagor wrote:
> Oh, maaaaaaaaaaan! It *still* has computer grot -- even if marginally
> less annoying.
Can't you just save it as a text file, open it in notepad, and then cut
and paste it into your mail program? Seems that should get rid of any
"computer grot"... (at least if the source of the problem is the
formatting codes in the word file)
Johnathan
Count Menelvagor
> Can't you just save it as a text file, open it in notepad, and then cut
> and paste it into your mail program? Seems that should get rid of any
> "computer grot"... (at least if the source of the problem is the
> formatting codes in the word file)
Thank you; maybe I'll give it a try.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, in spite of the computer grot and the
fact that it's almost as klong as my dissertation?