The Dark Lord stood atop the mighty Mount Zoom, surveiling all that would soon be his. This race was just the beginning. Today, the Mount Zoom Challenge. Tomorrow, THE WORLD!
Sauron sipped at his peppermint tea as Dwarfy the Dwarf unveiled his glorious Racing Machine of Doom. (Sauron never started the day without his peppermint tea; it helped settle his stomach. Being evil could wreak havoc on one's digestive system.) Fireworks exploded in the background as his servants violently persuaded the onlookers to cheer for him.
His all-seeing eyes swiveled downwards, to cast a dirty glance at the other racers. Those pathetic RIP-OFFS! No vehicle could come close to the awesome power that was Mount Zoom!
"YOU ARE ALL FOOLING YOURSELVES!" Sauron boomed down at the other racers, the Good Guys in particular. "YOU MUST KNOW BY NOW THAT NO-ONE CAN DEFEAT ME! UNLESS OF COURSE YOU PLAN ON SLICING OFF A FINGER. OR, YOU KNOW, LIKE, SENDING A HOBBIT TO MOUNT DOOM OR SOMETHING." Deciding to abandon this train of thought, the Dark Lord pointed an incriminating finger at Saruman.
"YOU!" he yelled. "ONE WHO SECRETLY SERVES ME! ARE YOU READY TO SUFFER ANOTHER HORRIBLE DEFEAT? MUST I BRING UP LAST YEAR'S VILLAIN'S BAKING CONTEST??" He held a gigantic gold trophy over his head; a great cup with a golden cookie on top. The words: "Sauron, First Place!" was engraved on the front. "HOPE YOU CAN DRIVE BETTER THAN YOU CAN DECORATE SUGAR COOKIES, OLD MAN!"
As the mighty Dark Lord touched his thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers in mockery of Orth-Tank and Minas More-Go, a figure appeared behind him. Sauron stopped, hearing the Mouth approach.
"My Lord, you're supposed to make a speech to the Audience," the Mouth reminded him. Sauron stopped his chant of "NYA NYA NYA NYAAA-NYAAA!!" and regarded him with as much confusion as an expressionless mask could muster.
"ISN'T THAT YOUR JOB?" he asked. "I THOUGHT THAT WAS OUR AGREEMENT, MOUTH. I HANDLE WORLD DOMINATION, YOU HANDLE PUBLIC RELATIONS." He scratched his helmet, making a horrible nails-on-chalkboard sound. "WELL... I SUPPOSE I COULD GIVE IT A TRY, JUST THIS ONCE..."
He strode to the edge of Mount Zoom. With a snap of his fingers, the spotlights hit him and his theme music began. The Dark Lord cleared his throat politely.
"PEOPLE OF MIDDLE EARTH!" he boomed. "PREPARE TO BE CONQUERED! I, SAURON, WITH MY MIGHTY MOUNT ZOOM (WITH ITS LEATHER SEATS, EXTRA-LARGE CUPHOLDERS, AND TOTALLY SWEET STEREO SYSTEM), SHALL WIN THIS RACE IN THE NAME OF EVIL! YOU WILL CHEER FOR ME, OR BE DESTROYED BY MY MINIONS, WHOM I HAVE SECRETLY HIDDEN AMONGST YOU." A wraith in a hobbit costume giggled happily and waved to his master. "I WISH MY FELLOW RACERS THE BEST OF LUCK *COUGHCOUGHLOSERSCOUGHCOUGH* AND MAY THE BEST EVIL OVERLORD WIN!"
Those audience members seated closest to the Wraiths started cheering wildly, fearing for their lives. Sauron, pleased, turned around and walked back to the Mouth.
"HOW WAS THAT, MOUTH?" Sauron asked. Without wating for a reply, the Dark Lord pulled out a map. "I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT OUR ROUTE FOR THIS RACE. I SAY WE JUST FOLLOW BAG ENDLESS-FULE, SO WE CAN RUN 'EM OVER AND TAKE THE RING WHEN NOBODY'S LOOKING. WHADDAYA THINK?"