Alternative Tolkien - Hunter S. Thompson
Saturday, November 24th, 2007 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serai.
Hunter S. Thompson:
The fiends are nipping at our heels....war, children, is just a shot away....crazed fiends dine on flesh and bone....the trail beats on.....
We were somewhere around Emyn Muil at the edge of the mountains when the ring began to take hold.
It crept up my spine like the first rising vibes of an acid frenzy. I saw a vision of one million fat greasebacking black-hooded fiends sucking into a football-shaped eyeball with a retina of pure hellfire. For some reason or another, it reminded me of C-SPAN. And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of these cocksuckers, all swooping and screeching and diving around me. And a voice was screaming: "Good Eru! What are these goddamn pigfuckers!"
"As your guardian, I advise you to walk at top speed. It'll be a goddamn miracle if we can get to Mordor before you turn into a wild animal."
My 'guardian', Sam, was revealing himself to be the purple-blooded blowhard fatbody I had always suspected him of being. I decided internally to piss in his water bottle after he falls asleep. One more crazed, cynical comment like that and I'll sic the leeches on him.
Christ, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did he hear me?
"Jesus, look at your face," Sam said, "you're about to explode."
"Fuck you, you devious fat bastard!" I responded.
In an instant, I felt a giant brown turd fall out of the sky. The turd proceeded to attack me, reaching for the ring in an insistant rage. There is nothing so crazed and irresponsible as a man in the depths of a Ring binge.
I decided it was time for a reassessment of the entire situation. I pushed the manturd into my guardian and hid behind some rocks.
There was something utterly pathetic in the sight of that fat hobbit grappling with a manturd. For a moment, I felt I had done an awful thing; the experience must have been negative for Sam. Better not tell him about those goddamn wraiths, I thought. I stepped out from behind the rock. Perhaps some reason would stop this foul beast from his dirty work.
"Uh...look, we're trying to find the way into Mordor. Would you like to travel with us?"
"Hot damn! I never traveled with a fatso before!" he responded. I suddenly liked our new found companion.
"Is that right?" I said. "Well, I guess you're about ready, eh?"
The manturd nodded eagerly.
"We're your friends," said the fatbody. "We're not like the others."
And that settled the matter about the ring. The manturd, as I later learned, was named Gollum. He was a swinish pervert with a knack for sadomasochism and a foot fetish. Either way, the three of us beat on the unkept path. I felt like a monster reincarnation of Bilbo Baggins .... a Hobbit on the Move, and just sick enough to be totally confident...
Hunter S. Thompson:
The fiends are nipping at our heels....war, children, is just a shot away....crazed fiends dine on flesh and bone....the trail beats on.....
We were somewhere around Emyn Muil at the edge of the mountains when the ring began to take hold.
It crept up my spine like the first rising vibes of an acid frenzy. I saw a vision of one million fat greasebacking black-hooded fiends sucking into a football-shaped eyeball with a retina of pure hellfire. For some reason or another, it reminded me of C-SPAN. And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of these cocksuckers, all swooping and screeching and diving around me. And a voice was screaming: "Good Eru! What are these goddamn pigfuckers!"
"As your guardian, I advise you to walk at top speed. It'll be a goddamn miracle if we can get to Mordor before you turn into a wild animal."
My 'guardian', Sam, was revealing himself to be the purple-blooded blowhard fatbody I had always suspected him of being. I decided internally to piss in his water bottle after he falls asleep. One more crazed, cynical comment like that and I'll sic the leeches on him.
Christ, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did he hear me?
"Jesus, look at your face," Sam said, "you're about to explode."
"Fuck you, you devious fat bastard!" I responded.
In an instant, I felt a giant brown turd fall out of the sky. The turd proceeded to attack me, reaching for the ring in an insistant rage. There is nothing so crazed and irresponsible as a man in the depths of a Ring binge.
I decided it was time for a reassessment of the entire situation. I pushed the manturd into my guardian and hid behind some rocks.
There was something utterly pathetic in the sight of that fat hobbit grappling with a manturd. For a moment, I felt I had done an awful thing; the experience must have been negative for Sam. Better not tell him about those goddamn wraiths, I thought. I stepped out from behind the rock. Perhaps some reason would stop this foul beast from his dirty work.
"Uh...look, we're trying to find the way into Mordor. Would you like to travel with us?"
"Hot damn! I never traveled with a fatso before!" he responded. I suddenly liked our new found companion.
"Is that right?" I said. "Well, I guess you're about ready, eh?"
The manturd nodded eagerly.
"We're your friends," said the fatbody. "We're not like the others."
And that settled the matter about the ring. The manturd, as I later learned, was named Gollum. He was a swinish pervert with a knack for sadomasochism and a foot fetish. Either way, the three of us beat on the unkept path. I felt like a monster reincarnation of Bilbo Baggins .... a Hobbit on the Move, and just sick enough to be totally confident...
