Aug 092011

Frodo had gone completely Dark Side. Taller than before, hair slicked back, he sneered down from the top step of the foyer at his hosts: two older hobbits who owned the immaculate, well-lit home. He was flanked by two nameless companions, and together the five of them surrounded a deep pit set inexplicably in the entryway floor. A mop of curly hair was just visible at the bottom.

“I was sick of his shit,” Frodo said in a bored voice, “and I pushed him in. So what?”

Some time later, everyone was gathered in a room deeper inside the house. Frodo asked Older Hobbit #1 what had become of the body. OH1 looked slyly at Older Hobbit #2.

“This one cooked him up and ate him!”

Everyone immediately believed this without question, and turned murderous gazes on OH2. Terrified, OH2 waddled into the kitchen as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, and I followed behind.

He pulled open the oven door, and I caught a horrible glimpse of something large roasting within, before he slammed it shut again. He turned back to OH1, now sitting in a chair near the kitchen entrance.

“You cooked him yourself, and blamed me for it! You’re going to pay for this!”

His back to me, OH2 pulled open the front of his pants and a heavy stream of piss suddenly splashed against OH1’s face, who opened his mouth to catch it.

I watched in stunned disbelief for a second, then yelled at the lot of them, “Stop it! Do you know what the worst thing about the ‘Lord of the Rings’ books was? All the singing! Not this–cannibalism and water sports! What the fuck is wrong with you people?!”

I stormed through the kitchen door and outside. Crouched immediately in front of me was one of the creatures which had been stalking us, and the reason we’d taken shelter here. It resembled a large, four-legged stuffed animal without fur: all smooth white cloth and black button eyes, with no other distinguishing features.

These are the terrible monsters we were running from?

Startled by my sudden appearance, the thing froze. Without breaking stride I snap-kicked it under the jaw, sending it end-over-end across the courtyard, and in my best Ripley vs. the Alien Queen voice screamed, “DON’T FUCK WITH ME! I WILL KILL YOU!”

Turning left into a hallway that appeared, another of the things got in my way. I grabbed it by the hindquarters, spun around in a circle, and hurled it into the third critter just behind it. They both went flying, and my improvised missile turned into a shaggy blue toy dog. I suddenly felt a bit guilty for being mean to something so cuddly and lovable, but put it out of my mind as I stomped down the corridor and into the next dream.

“What kind of fighter squadron doesn’t have service manuals for any of its planes? How are we supposed to fix anything?!”

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