[littlemanpoet]

LMP popped an eye open. Then he popped the other open. Then he opened his mouth as big as he could to pop his ears. Pop! Pop! Darned ears, always clogging when I sleep. He had been dreaming that he had gotten out of bed, made breakfast, driven to work, spent almost ten hours there, then come home again and had supper. Then he'd gone to his computer to see how things were going at the Barrowdowns Birthday party, when lo and behold, he woke up! Actually, he had been only in a doze for the last few hours, so he had overheard a raucous debate on the topic of Tom Bombadil's wings. Various and sundry persons had held forth to the great satisfaction of all involved, but especially themselves. LMP screwed up his face. He felt that certain points had been missed, and it was his job to clear it all up. He got his feet under him and stood up in the soft oversized green chair, and promptly tipped over, barely catching himself before he conked his head on the floor. He scrambled to an upright position and cleared his throat.

"As to Tom Bombadil and his wings,
to which this and that theorist clings,
allow me to say that you're all missing
important facts. Now, no hissing!
You will notice in the book that never
are Tom, Gollum, and Balrog together!
Indeed, it is clear that these three
combined make up one entity,
whether dancing upon the green,
or getting under Sam's spleen,
or pulling a wizard down a fissure,
the three together make one Trickster!"

LMP finished with his arms raised, a big smile on his face.