View Single Post
Old 08-07-2004, 08:56 PM   #195
Thenamir
Spectre of Capitalism
 
Thenamir's Avatar
 
Join Date: May 2001
Location: Battling evil bureaucrats at Zeta Aquilae
Posts: 990
Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Thenamir has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!
Ned Candyman was in a merry mood as he ambled, a little unsteadily, down the street towards his home and bed, several good pints of ale-fire warding off the night chill and causing him a pleasant loss of short-term memory. No amount of free-flowing beer, however, could have kept Ned from being frozen in his tracks by the booming basso profundo, like unto the flatulence of the gods, which hailed him from an unlit alleyway. Ned turned to the sound, willing himself to run away but unable to resist that malodious sweetness -- the voice of the used-car-salesman of Valleyum, a well-coiffed news-anchor, and a home-shopping-network huckster all rolled into one. Step by painful step he approached the shadowy figure lurking in a half slouch over his hyen...er, pony cart. Then he came within the range of the heavenly smell of warm meat sausages and fresh-baked buns, and the last of his resistence melted away.

"You know whom I seek. They are near, yes?" came the voice again, tinged with just a bit of eagerness held under tight rein, as the silhouetted man began assembling something in the darkness, sending another draught of the fell aromas in Ned's direction.

"Yes," said Ned thickly, as if through a drugged euphoria, "they are taking their ease (along with most of the food) at The Ivy Bush, Mister Sparkey sir."

"Excellent." said the voice as if pronouncing a pontifical blessing upon the benighted sap. "Here, a reward for your...cooperation. And some lollipops for your children." Whereupon the still-hidden figure reached toward Ned out of the darkness and handed him a simple hot dog with mustard, onions and "secret sauce." Ned acccepted eagerly, spitting fragments of thanks at the retreating figure as he departed towards the nearby inn. Ned shuffled off towards home again. Ten steps down the road, he wondered why his breath tasted of onions, and where did all these crumbs on his jerkin come from...

Ten minutes later, Sparkey, heretofore known as Sauerkraut of Dorktank, had taken a position with his cart down the street from the rooms soon to be occupied by the EverHungry-ship. He stoked the fire under the sausage-boiler, and then began pumping a bellows which blew vast quantities of hotdog-scented air up and towards the inn. He knew that where there were hobbits, even half-hobbits, the smell would bring them out. "Stupid Riders with their Black Breath...you can catch more hobbits with hotdogs than halitosis, I always say," murmured Sauerkraut as he worked.

==========================

"...I'm sorry, miss, er..."

"Pimpiowyn!" exclaimed Pimpi and Vogonwe in unison. Vogonwe glared at Soregum, who was still chatting it up with a group of fellow hobbits and had not yet returned with the ale he'd promised to refill. Not that the bartender was anywhere in evidence.

"Er, miss Pimpiowyn, but there ain't nuthin' left in th' larder! You and your gatherin' 'ave eaten us clean out!"

"And you call this an inn! When I go to an inn," Pimpiowyn explained with a rising annoyance, "I expect to be able to eat in the inn, that's why it's called an "inn"! Now, because your inn has run out, we have to go out, which is the opposite of inn, and find more victuals to bring inn from out, and that's just not right! Out is out, and in is inn -- and in that your inn is now on the outs with me, and three outs ends an inning, out from inside the inn into the outside I go in search.."

Gateskeeper leaned over to Earnur and Orogarn Two, whispering, "Obviously Vogonwe's influence is beginning to rub off on her." The two men chuckled, until Pimpi interrupted her rant so suddenly that they thought she must have choked on something except that her plate was (as usual) empty. Pimpiowyn's food-sensitive schnozzola had detected a momentary whiff of something...delicious. "I'm going out..." she started, but was interrupted yet again by the rest of the Heard-it-all-before-ship in unison complaining "Don't start that again!" Vogonwe proffered, "Don't go too far from the i...er, the Ivy Bush, dear. You might get lost!" he added at the rapidly retreating figure heading for the door. After a few moments, Soregum and his fellows, apparantly catching the same whiff as Pimpi, followed her out the door.

At this moment Kuruharan rejoined the group, walking a bit stiffly and carrying a canvas sack that appeared to be rather heavy and that jingled a bit when he hiked his short form up onto the chair. The others were too tired, too full, and too engrossed in discussing tomorrow's plans to notice. Before long, though, fatigue (and ale, obtained by helping themselves) overtook them, and they made their way in ones and twos off to their rooms, except for Kuruharan and Vogonwe -- the dwarf to hide his booze-pilfered takings in the cart, and the elf to find his beloved overgrown half-hobbit. Gateskeeper cleaned and reloaded his pipe, and excused himself outside to smoke it.

Upon reaching the outside Vogonwe searched up the street and down again, finally espying the tavern hobbits and Pimpiowyn milling about a small cart a few blocks away and started towards the cart at an easy pace. But something was...wrong...Pimpi was in the presence of food, and it certainly smelled good, but was not eating. He trotted up to the cart to just as Pimpi began screaming -- the smell was maddening, but no one was attending the cart!

Kuruharan walked around back of the inn to the stables and parking area, where the animals and their cart were being kept. He climbed aboard the roomy cart and found his strongbox-pack, stashed away his new sack of stolen loot...but something was...wrong...this cart wasn't roomy, it was supposed to be overloaded! The Entish Thighs were gone! Kuruharan spun around in the cart and caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing behind the barn, while on the ground beside the cart, there lay a crumpled paper hat.

================================

Sauerkraut, congratulating himself on a flawless diversionary tactic, ignored the protestations of the Entish thighs in his own covered wagon and was about to mount up when he heard a voice already in the seat call down, "going somewhere?" Gateskeeper, puffing on his pipe, looked down at the shocked Sauerkraut. "Wait," melliflowed the erstwhile sausage vendor, "I know you."

"That's right," said the Gateskeeper in a tight voice, made all the tighter by the Ivy Bush's ale, all the while blowing smokerings that shaped themselves into smiley-faces. "I used to be your message boy back at Dorktank. I've got a new employer now, and I'm afraid that someone already has dibs on these Ent parts."

"You mean that pitiful band you've been travelling with? That insufferable shieldmaiden and her misfit tagalongs?"

"Not exactly."

Gateskeeper whipped his staff around, and let fly with a burst of magic with the word "McAfee!!" Sauerkraut was knocked back against the side of a nearby storage building. Sauerkraut, after a moment's shock, responded with "Norton!!" which caused Gateskeeper to be slammed to the ground and begin spinning in circles. Gateskeeper shot back with "Yahoo!!", which caused Sauerkraut to do somersaults while making funny faces. Sauerkraut gathered his strength (not an easy thing when making faces) and hurled another mighty curse, "Napster!!" Gateskeeper began break dancing uncontrollably, but still managed to say, "Is that all you got?" before crying "PamelaAndersonLee.com!!" Even the aging Sauerkraut was distracted by that one, but he was able to bellow one last command, "GOOGLE!!!" -- which would have left Gateskeeper barking like a dog on all fours, except the barrage was deflected by a thrown shield. They both looked up in surprise to see the rest of the Not-Well-Restedship in the street, armed to the teeth (and most of their hands) facing them down.

Merisuwyniel stepped forward and said, "This insufferable shieldmaiden, for one, wants those thighs back. Undamaged, thank you."

The voice of powerful resonance, like the rumblings of the unfed stomach of a cave troll, sneered at them, "You have no idea who you're dealing with." Raising an aged yellow hand off-stained with misfired mustard, he issued a silent summons. From nearest to that tumeric-spiced hand Gateskeeper sensed a great power flowing, and cried out "SPAM O-Mail! You're infringing my khopy-wight!!"

"Nay," came again the voice, and it's tone was changed, akin to the gentle belching of Mantoes, "SPAM o-mail is unsolicited. This is my own all-volunteer mailing list. Behold!" And out of every dark corner, from behind every trash can and hay-bale, from every concealment large enough to cover a hobbit, arose from their hiding places, the lolligaggers and the hot-dog entranced people of both Beer and the Mire, surrounding and vastly outnumbering them. Among the zombies was a very bloated-looking Pimpiowyn, an odd smile on her otherwise expressionless face...

Last edited by Thenamir; 08-09-2004 at 08:47 AM. Reason: spelling, grammatical, and other errors, and some slight additions to the prose.
Thenamir is offline