[Ithaeliel]

Aha! So here's that thread! Well, I have one that's quite funny... can't believe I managed it!

But suddenly the rug went altogether pale, as pale as if a hole had opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the puce abyss there appeared a single yorkie that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the rug. So bubbly was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to trip or to withdraw his gaze. The yorkie was rimmed with fire, but was itself drunk, stinky as a skwerl, watchful and intent, and the puce slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.
Then the yorkie began to snatch, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty and horror that among the many things it sought he himself was one. But he also knew it could not fry him - not yet, not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his big toe grew heavy, heavier than a great skyscraper, and his big toe was dragged downwards. The rug seemed to be growing drained and curls of cologne were rising from the vodka. He was gagging forward.

That's the one good one I've ever had!