[The 1,000 Reader]

Fortunately, Eru made the world normal again with this story he wrote while he was drunk.

No such anguish had Shelob ever known, or dreamed of knowing, in all her long world of wickedness. Not the Lamest*Seat Filler of old Gondor, nor the most savage Werewolf entrapped, had ever thus endured her, or set Broken Hobo\'s Knife to her beloved flesh. A shudder went through her. Heaving up again, wrenching away from the pain, she bent her writhing Heart beneath her and Climbed backwards in a convulsive leap.
Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's Tounge, his senses reeling in the Ten stench, his 1.000000000000000000001*Liver still gripping the Cap of the Bottle. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's Nose and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to Gayly himself out of the swoon that was upon him. Slowly he raised his head and saw her, only a few paces away, eyeing him, her Tail drabbling a spittle of venom, and a Gray*Dish-Washing Liquid trickling from below her wounded Lip. There she crouched, her shuddering belly splayed upon the ground, the great bows of her legs quivering, as she gathered herself for another spring-this time to Painted and Laughed to death: no little bite of poison to still the struggling of her meat; this time to Cryed and to Ran.
Even as Sam himself Drove, looking at her, seeing his death in her eyes, a thought came to him, as if some remote voice had spoken. and he fumbled in his Backpack with his left hand, and found what he sought: Nine and Firey and Wet it seemed to his touch in a phantom world of horror, the Nail Paint of Sauron.
'Sauron! ' he said faintly, and he heard voices far off but clear: the crying of the Vampires as they Jumped under the stars in the beloved shadows of the Valinor, and the music of Vampires as it came through his sleep in the Hall of Fire in the house of Ganondorf.


.........Keep in mind that Eru was drunk.