If LotR had been written by someone else!?

[Lostgaeriel]

LOTR written as a radio play by Douglas Adams (Author of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy BBC radio series, TV series, 5-book trilogy and Dirk Gently books):

Merry: We’re trapped now, aren’t we?
Pippin: Errrrr…yes, we’re trapped.
Merry: Well, didn’t you think of anything?
Pippin: Oh, yes, but unfortunately it rather involved being on the other side of the tight ring of Orc guards all around us.
Merry: So what happens next?
Pippin: The sun will rise in a moment and we’ll be attacked on all sides by the Riders of Rohan and we’ll die in about thirty seconds.
Merry: So this is it. We’re going to die.
Pippin: Yes…except…No! Wait a minute, what’s this knife?
Merry: What? Where?
Pippin: No, I was only fooling. We are going to die after all.
Merry: You know it’s at times like this, when I’m captured by the Uruk-hai with a hobbit from Tuckborough, and about to die of horrible wounds in a fierce battle that I really wish I’d listened to what my mother told me when I was young.
Pippin: Why, what did she tell you?
Merry: I don’t know, I didn’t listen.
Pippin: Huh! Terrific.

[ February 02, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[The Mirrorball Man]

That one was really excellent, Lostgaeriel. Keep'em coming!

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Great, Lostgariel - I'm still laughing!

[Jjudvven]

Good Grief... [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Androndo the Thoughtfull]

Very nice!
My favorite author is this one:

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet
hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare,
sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a
hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a
shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a
tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke,
with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished
chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond
of visitors.

[Bruce MacCulloch]

Lord of the Rings
by Charles Dickens

'A happy Birthday, uncle! Elbereth save you!' cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Bilbo's nephew Frodo, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
`Bah!' said Bilbo, `Humbug!' He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Bilbo's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and hair on his feet steamed again.
`Our Birthday a humbug, uncle!' said Bilbo's nephew. `You don't mean that, I am sure?'
`I do,' said Bilbo. `Happy Birthday! What right have you to be happy? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.'
`Come, then, returned the nephew gaily. `What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.'
Bilbo having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said `Bah!' again; and followed it up with `Humbug.'

[ February 09, 2002: Message edited by: Bruce MacCulloch ]

[Mister Underhill]

LotR by Jack London:
~~~~~~~
Samwise did not understand the Common Speech, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every Shire dog, strong of muscle and furry of foot, from the Far Downs to the Brandywine Bridge. Because a Hobbit, groping in the darkness of the Misty Mountains, had found a yellow Ring, and because Gandalf the Wizard had discovered that the Ring was very dangerous, a Fellowship was setting out for Mordor. This Fellowship wanted dogs, and the dogs they wanted were faithful ones, with strong muscles by which to toil, and keen noses by which to hunt up coneys.

[Lostgaeriel]

Hi there! I'm feeling just great, guys, and I'm glad you got a kick out of the "Guide" version. (Handy to have the Original Radio Scripts to work from. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] )

Bruce MacCulloch - I love the Dickens version! Got any more? [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]
Mister Underhill - You made me pull out my childhood copy of The Call of the Wild. Amazingly funny! [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Lush]

Alright, now that I'm done LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY:

~~~
The Lord of the Rings by William Faulkner.

"It's them durn rings," Gandalf says. "Sauron's bound to be overtakin' the land with them durn rings. An' if he gits his paws on the One Ring, all hell's bound to break loose. It ain't right."
Frodo stares at the ring.
It looks to him as something new and hard and bright, there ought to be something a little better for it that just being safe, even in Rivendell, since the safe things are just the things that Elves have been doing so long they have worn the edges off and there's nothing to the doing of them that leaves a Hobbit to say, That was not done before and it cannot be done again.
"Guess the durn Ring oughta be destroyed," Frodo says.
"Sho' is," Elrond says.
"Guess I may hafta die doin' it too," Frodo says.
But there's a duty to destroy the Ring, to the beer, the yellow sweet beer boiling through the Shire. Frodo would think of the Ring as he would think of beer and the responsibility they bore in the Shire's face, and of the circumspection necessary because the Ring was the Ring and Sauron was Sauron.
"I reckon it's off to Mordor then, " Frodo says. "If them Shadows come there ain't gonna be no more Shire, and no more beer either. A Hobbit will always help Middle Earth in a tight, if he's got ere a drop of Baggins blood in him."

[Bruce MacCulloch]

Lord of the Rings
by Edgar Allan Poe

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Dark Lord. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the Eldar and the Free Folk in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the White Tree went out with that of the last of the Free. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Will of Sauron held illimitable dominion over all.

[Aralaithiel]

Ok you guys! Here it is at last!
LOTR, by Monty Python
Balrog: Answer these questions 3, or crossing the Bridge of Khazad Duhm you shall not see! What is your name?
Gandalf: Uh, Gandalf, Fire of Anor
Balrog: What is your quest?
Gandalf: To play with hobbits and powerful jewelry.
Balrog: What is your favorite color?
Gandalf: White! No!!! Gray! AAAAHHRRRGGGHHH (falls into shadow after Balrog)

[Bruce MacCulloch]

Lord of the Rings
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (creator of Sherlock Holmes)

Finding that Baggins was too absorbed for conversation, I had tossed aside the barren paper, and, leaning back in my chair I fell into a brown study. Suddenly my companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts.
"You are right, Gamgee," said he. "It does seem a very preposterous way of defeating the Dark Lord."
"Most preposterous!" I exclaimed, and then, suddenly realizing how he had echoed the inmost thought of my soul, I sat up in my chair and stared at him in blank amazement.
"What is this, Baggins?" I cried. "This is beyond anything which I could have imagined."
He laughed heartily at my perplexity.
"You remember," said he, "that some little time ago, when I read you the passage in Bilbo's book, in which Thorin follows the unspoken thoughts of his companion, you were inclined to treat the matter as a mere tour de force of the author. On my remarking that I was constantly in the habit of doing the same thing you expressed incredulity."
"Oh, no!"
"Perhaps not with your tongue, my dear Gamgee, but certainly with your eyebrows. So when I saw you throw down your paper and enter upon a train of thought, I was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it off, and eventually of breaking into it, as a proof that I had been in rapport with you."
But I was still far from satisfied. "In the example which you read to me," said I, "the reasoner drew his conclusions from the actions of the dwarf whom he observed. If I remember right, he got out of the barrel, complained of the smell of apples, and so on. But I have been seated quietly in my chair, and what clues can I have given you?"
"You do yourself an injustice. The features are given to hobbit as the means by which he shall express his emotions, and yours are faithful servants, as you are mine."
"Do you mean to say that you read my train of thoughts from my features?"
"Your features, and especially your eyes. Perhaps you cannot yourself recall how your reverie commenced?"
"No, I cannot."
"Then I will tell you. After throwing down your paper, which was the action which drew my attention to you, you sat for half a minute with a vacant expression. Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your newly framed picture of King Elessar, and I saw by the alteration in your face that a train of thought had been started. But it did not lead very far. Your eyes turned across to
the unframed portrait of Gandalf, which stands upon the top of your books. You then glanced up at the wall, and of course your meaning was obvious. You were thinking that if the portrait were framed it would just cover that bare space and correspond with Elessar's picture over there."
"You have followed me wonderfully!" I exclaimed.
"So far I could hardly have gone astray. But now your thoughts went back to Gandalf, and you looked hard across as if you were studying the character in his features. Then your eyes ceased to pucker, but you continued to look across, and your face was thoughtful. You were recalling the incidents of Gandalf's career. I was well aware that you could not do this without thinking of the mission which we undertook on behalf of the Free Peoples at the time of the War of the Rings, for I remember you expressing your passionate indignation at the way in which he was received by the more complacent of our people. You felt so strongly about it that I knew you could not think of Gandalf without thinking of that also. When a moment later I saw your eyes wander away from the picture, I suspected that your mind had now turned to Black Land, and when I observed that your lips set, your eyes sparkled, and your hands clinched, I was positive that you were indeed thinking of the gallantry which was shown by yourself that desperate mission. But then, again, your face grew sadder; you shook your head. You were dwelling upon the sadness and horror and useless waste of life on the part of the Men of Gondor and Rohan. A smile then quivered on your lips, which showed me that the ridiculous side of Hobbits defeating Sauron had forced itself upon your mind. At this point I agreed with you that it was preposterous, and was glad to find that all my deductions had been correct."
"Absolutely!" said I. "And now that you have explained it, I confess that I am as amazed as before."
"It was very superficial, my dear Gamgee, I assure you. I should not have intruded it upon your attention had you not shown some incredulity the other day. But the evening has brought a breeze with it. What do you say to a ramble through Hobbiton?"

[ February 09, 2002: Message edited by: Bruce MacCulloch ]

[ February 09, 2002: Message edited by: Bruce MacCulloch ]

[Birdland]

Originally posted by Bruce MacCulloch:
<STRONG>Lord of the Rings
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (creator of Sherlock Holmes)</STRONG>

Bravo! (But you forgot the pipe. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] )

[Mister Underhill]

Most excellent wonderful!

[Lostgaeriel]

The Lord of the Rings by John Steinbeck (author of The Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice and Men, East of Eden, The Winter of Our Discontent, etc.)
This version is based on The Red Pony.

His master and Strider the Ranger came in. Sam knew from the sound of the floor that both of them were wearing flat-heeled shoes, but he peered under the table to make sure. His master turned off the oil lamp, for the day had arrived, and he looked stern and disciplinary, but Strider the Ranger didn’t look at Sam at all. He avoided the shy questioning eyes of the young hobbit and soaked a whole piece of toast in his coffee.

Frodo Baggins said crossly, “You come with us after breakfast!”

Sam had trouble with his food then, for he felt a kind of doom in the air. After Strider had tilted his saucer and drained the coffee that had slopped into it, and had wiped his hands on his jeans*, the two friends stood up from the table and went out into the morning light together, and Sam respectfully followed a little behind them. He tried to keep his mind from running ahead, tried to keep it absolutely motionless.

The Gaffer called, “Mr. Frodo! Don’t you let it keep him from gardening.”

They marched past the mallorn, where a singletree hung from a limb to butcher the pigs on, and past the black iron kettle, so it was not a pig killing. The sun shone over the Hill and threw long, dark shadows of the trees and buildings. They crossed a stubble-field to shortcut to the barn. Sam’s master unhooked the door and they went in. They had been walking toward the sun on the way down. The barn was black as night in contrast and warm from the hay and from the beasts. Sam’s master moved over toward the one box stall. “Come here!” he ordered. Sam could begin to see things now. He looked into the box stall and then stepped back quickly.

A red pony was looking at him out of the stall. Its tense ears were forward and a light of disobedience was in his eyes. Its coat was rough and thick as the fur on a hobbit’s foot and its mane was long and tangled. Sam’s throat collapsed in on itself and cut his breath short.

“He needs a good currying,” his master said, “and if I ever hear of you not feeding him or leaving his stall dirty, I’ll sell him off in a minute.”

Sam couldn’t bear to look at the pony’s eyes anymore. He gazed down at his hands for a moment, and he asked very shyly, “Mine?” No one answered him. He put his hand out toward the pony. Its grey nose came close, sniffing loudly, and then the lips drew back and the strong teeth closed on Sam’s fingers. The pony shook its head up and down and seemed to laugh with amusement. Sam regarded his bruised fingers. “Well,” he said with pride – “Well, I guess he can bite all right.” The two friends laughed, somewhat in relief. Frodo Baggins went out of the barn and walked up a side-hill to be by himself, for he was embarrassed, but Strider the Ranger stayed. It was easier to talk to Strider the Ranger. Sam asked again – “Mine?”

Strider became professional in tone. “Sure! That is, if you look out for him and break him right. I’ll show you how. He’s just a colt. You can’t ride him for some time.”

Sam put out his bruised hand again, and this time the red pony let his nose be rubbed. “I ought to have a carrot or a potato,” Sam said. “Where’d we get him, Strider?”

“Bought him at an innkeeper’s auction,” Strider explained. “A nine-ring circus went broke in Bree and had debts. The innkeeper was selling off their stuff.”

The pony stretched out his nose and shook the forelock from his wild eyes. Sam stroked the nose a little. He said softly, “There isn’t a - saddle?”

Strider the Ranger laughed. “I’d forgot. Come along.”

In the harness room he lifted down a little saddle of black morgul leather. “It’s just a wraith saddle,” Strider the Ranger said disparagingly. “It isn’t practical for the brush, but it was cheap at the sale.”

Sam couldn’t trust himself to look at the saddle either, and he couldn’t speak at all. He brushed the shining black leather with his fingertips, and after a long time he said, "It’ll look pretty on him though.” He thought of the grandest thing he knew. “If he hasn’t a name already, I think I’ll call him Gil-galad the Elven-king,” he said.

Strider the Ranger knew how he felt. “It’s a pretty long name. Why don’t you just call him Gil? That means star. That would be a fine name for him.” Strider felt glad. “If you will collect tail hair, I might be able to make a hair rope for you sometime. You could use it for a hackamore.”

* Just picture Viggo in a pair of 501s and you’ll understand why I didn’t change this word. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

[ February 23, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[Elven-Maiden]

Bravo! Love the Star Trek ones! The Steinbeck one was very well done too! [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[Gayahithwen]

my fav is the Monty Python one. I might do one Monty Python myself, sooner or later.. But it's not that certain.. anyway, all is excellent!

[Birdland]

Bravo for the Steinbeck take-off! That touch with the mallorn tree being used for the hog butchering was great. Appealed to my sick sense of humor.

Awwww, Sam got a pony!

[ February 23, 2002: Message edited by: Birdland ]

[Tarlondeion Of Gondolin]

Hilarious, I'm gonna write one myself. Maybe A Father Ted One (dunno who wrote Father Ted)
You should get them on the fan fiction thing, so that generations can read them and laugh! The funniest thread ever and the first long one I've ever read properley. Hilarious!!!!

[NotHomeYet]

Another Star Wars idea....


Arwen: What are you doing?!

Aragorn: I have to fight off these orcs! You get back to the horses!

Arwen: Well, he certainly is brave.

Frodo: He won't be any good to us if he gets himself killed.

Aragorn: Hurry up, or you're gonna be a permanent resident! Get back to the horses!

Arwen: But don't you think we should figure out-

Aragorn: I am not interested in discussing this with a committe!

Arwen: I AM NOT A COMMITTE!!!!!

*they mount the horses*

Arwen: *looking up* *screams*

Aragorn: What?!

Arwen: There's something up there. Up there, past the clouds.

Aragorn: What do you mean, "something"?

Arwen: I don't know!

Aragorn: Well, I'm gonna go check it out.

Arwen: Argh! Then I'm going with you!!!

Frodo: Wait, it's giving off a transmission!

Merry: I am fluent in over six million forms of communitcation, but this code I am not familiar with.

Pippin: Dee beep whirr boop ding beep.

Sam: Hrrrrrnnnn! Roaooaor!

[Daisy Sandybanks]

Oh my God! I absolutly LOVE these! They're hilarious!! I especially love the one by Gene Roddenbury, that one was great! I am a hugh Star Trek fan, so naturally I love that one.... [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Gorothlammothiel]

You people/elves/hobbits/dwarves/etc are very talented and very amusing......please continue......... [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[Elven-Maiden]

I loved that Star Wars one! Merry and Pipin were great! I'd write one, but I just can't think of any....

[dragongirlG]

These are excellent!!!! I wish someone would write a Hawthorne (author of the Scarlet Letter parody, that'd be interesting! I might write a parody myself! Oooh, I know, when I'm done with The Catcher in the Rye I might write one. Good job, everyone!

[Ulmo]

Originally posted by Mister Underhill:
<STRONG>By Mark Twain, who would undoubtedly have focused on the true hero of the narrative – that mischievous rascal, Pippin:
~~~~~~~
NOTICE:
Persons attempting to resolve the question of Balrog wings by means of this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to define the nature of Tom Bombadil will be banished; persons attempting to find allegory in it will be shot.
BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR,
Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance.

FOREWORD:
In this book a number of dialects are used, to wit: the Quenya Elvish dialect; the extremest form of the Rhovanion dialect; the ordinary Sindarin dialect; and four modified varieties of this last. The shadings have not been done in a haphazard fashion, or by guesswork; but painstakingly, and with the trustworthy guidance and support of personal familiarity with these several forms of speech.

I make this explanation for the reason that without it many readers would suppose that all these characters were trying to talk alike and not succeeding.
THE AUTHOR.

CHAPTER 1
You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Red Book of Westmarch; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Frodo Baggins and his Uncle Bilbo, and they told the truth, mainly. There was things which they stretched, but mostly they told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was the Lady Galadriel, or Elrond, or maybe Gandalf. The Lady Galadriel – the Lady of Lothlorien, she is – and Elrond, and the wizard Gandalf is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some stretchers, as I said before.</STRONG>

LOL! Mister Underhill, that is without a doubt, my favorite! Too funny. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

This thread needs to be printed out, framed, and shoved in a time capsule somewhere. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img]

Great job everyone!

[Mister Underhill]

I love this thread, as each time it’s revived, new inspiration strikes...

LotR by RAY BRADBURY
In which Gandalf gains a new perspective on his heretofore unexamined mission:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a special pleasure to see Hobbits eaten, to see them blackened and changed. With the wooden staff in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous pitch upon the Shire, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his pointed hat on his wizened head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he mumbled a Word of Command and the Great Smials jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a haunch of mutton on a spit in the furnace, while the flapping, ridiculous Hobbits died on the porch and lawn of the great Hobbit-hole. While the Hobbits went up in greasy, sparkling whirls that blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.

Gandalf grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame. Fools of Tooks! he thought with an inward chuckle, as the smell of burnt foot-hair filled his nostrils, as welcome as the smell of a fresh-baked apple pie cooling on the sill.

He knew that when he returned to Lothlórien, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the Mirror of Galadriel. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that smile, it never ever went away, as long as he remembered.

[Bruce MacCulloch]

Would that be Farenheit 1420?

[Birdland]

Mr. Underhill, you sicko! (Still laughing!)

[Jessica Jade]

these posts are ingenious! Keep up the excellent creativity! I liked the Ray Bradbury one particularly, as well as Monty Python and Edgar Allen Poe. Jane Austen as well. These are awesome...hmmm i'm considering writing a Dante (author of The Divine Comedy (more commonly known for The Inferno part) parady, once i finish Inferno. lol lol. This thread is great! I love it!

[dragongirlG]

LOL, Mister Underhill! Your Ray Bradbury one was excellent and pretty sick, lol!! Keep writing!

[Maltaharma]

If LOTR was written by (god forbid) The Marx Brothers...
Legolas: This morning I got up and shot an orc in my pajamas. How the orc got into my pajamas, I dunno.
Gimli: Honk-honk!

Aragorn: "The orcs are coming!" Hobbits: "La la la la la!"-LOTR the Lost musical

[Maltaharma]

If Barbie wrote LOTR...from Frodo's perspective.
"Oh, my, god, I like totally got this ring and like so does not match with like anything i own so i'm going to take it to Mount Doom and like totally return!!! Hey, me and Sam can take the pink jeep! oohh! Hey, like OMG, you stupid orcs, you're liking mussing up my hair! Like AHHHH!! I broke a nail! OMG Middle Earth is like so screwed right now! AHHH!"

"Zippin Pippin!"-Lost diary of merry and pippin

[avarerniliel]

LOTR written by Robert t. Baker:
Now, if you'll just notice the exquisite jaw bone features on this rather short fellow. See how the fur on his feet protects him from the stones and wood littering the ground. His prominent nose sniffs the wind, on alert for any sign of danger in this terrible wasteland. Oh dear, here comes a much larger fellow. Notice how he retreats into the foliage and disappears silently. The ugly large one has found him! He seems to be searching for something, and , yes! I believe he's found it, it appears to be a small metalic circlet of some sort!

[avarerniliel]

Oh, and Bruce, it's not Fahrenheit 1420, it's Fahrenheit 451! Excellent book, I just wish Beatty didn't refer to himself in third person, and everybody else!

Would Montag like a promotion?

[Kalimac]

Lord of the Rings, by Tom Wolfe.

His head still on the pillow, Frodo Baggins groaned. The sound of the knocking on the door of the Prancing Pony was shaking the poisonous yolk that was his head, shaking it, threatening to break it. The yolk was as heavy as unforged mithril, and it tilted this way and that, painful as orc-spear in naked flesh. If the yolk broke, he was finished.

What had he been doing last night? He looked with disgust at the filthy clothes he had left scattered on the floor, at the sloppy arrangement of blankets on the floor that had served him for the bed. A man-sized chair of rickety wood was by the fireplace. Dear God, the Breelanders and their cheap substitutes for real furniture. Again the yolk shifted.

Something about last night. Merry and Pippin had been getting drunk on Butterbur's tab, and he had joined them even though he only had twenty silver pennies and those had to last him until Rivendell...something about the Ring. Frodo jerked his head up and immediately the yolk crashed into his skull. His head fell again. He had sung some outrageously stupid song of that old prat Bilbo's, and even Sam had come in by then and had asked him to sing it again and Frodo, drunk with beer and attention, had agreed and then he had fallen and the Ring had fallen too -

The knocking continued. He had to answer or he would never get to sleep again. He stood up, clutching at the legs of the chair as the yolk shifted again.

He would never drink again. Never! Not so much as a small miruvor until Rivendell - he would be reformed from today on.

The knocking continued. "Oh, come in!" Frodo tried to yell, but ended in a feeble groan. God, the Breelanders, he thought again. The Ring. Why did I ever come here in the first place?

Fantastic! Love the Monty Python! The Hitchhikers! Ahhh...keep them coming.

"What is the air-speed velocity of a Nazgul bearing a coconut?"

"I don't know Gandalf, but it must be better than a Balrog bearing a holy hand grenade and a blazing wrath"

"You mean the holy hand grenade of Antiock?"

"The very same sir"

"Speak of it no more then!"

"OK Gandalf, but may I ask you another question?"

"Very well then"

"Are you actually Tim the Enchanter?"

"There are some who will call me...Tim"

-Terrible I know, curse me for being a huge fan of Monty Python. [img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Glenethor]

I liked the Anthony Burgess one. Good thing I wasn't drinking something as I was reading this thread, or I'd have had something coming out my nostrils...

[img]smilies/biggrin.gif[/img]

[Bruce MacCulloch]

Oh, and Bruce, it's not Fahrenheit 1420, it's Fahrenheit 451!

I know, Avarneliel, I was trying to make a very bad joke! [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img] [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

[dragongirlG]

The Lord of the Rings by J.D. Salinger (author of The Catcher in the Rye)

If you really want to know about it, I can tell you about my family life, history, etc., and all that Gandalf-firework kind of crap, but I really don't feel like writing it all down. Firstly, that stuff bores me, and second of all, both my parents are dead, so there's really no point in telling you about them. I live with my Uncle Bilbo, if you really are interested, and he's a bit touchy about his true life sometimes. I mean, he's nice and all, but he really is touchy and secretive about his life. I don't really believe about him defeating a dragon with his bare hands with a bunch of dwarves at his heels. Honestly. He just isn't the type who would actually do that. I bet he was involved in the whole dragon deal, but he didn't actually do it. Besides, this isn't supposed to be my whole autobiography or anything. I'm just here to tell you about this crazy stuff that happened to me about a year ago. I was sent here, to the Grey Havens, to come and take it easy, living here with a bunch of Elves and the Grey Wizard. That's all I told Sam about, and half the time he was with me on this big old journey, and plus he's practically my best friend. He's in the Shire. That's really far from this timeless place, right over the big wide sea. Too funny, eh?



Where I want to begin is the day I left Bag End. Bag End is this old hobbit hole down in Hobbiton and near Bywater. You've probably heard old Pippin and Merry talking about it. It was where I used to live with my Uncle Bilbo, before I went on this crazy journey and all. Anyway, it was a weird day. Bilbo sort of left--disappeared, rather, at the end of his birthday speech. I knew he was going to. I'm a pretty bright kid. Well, getting back to the point, the Sackville-Bagginses started to bother me, and I told Merry to deal with them. A few days later Gandalf came to visit. He told me about this weird, screwed-up creature named Gollum. This is actually a few years before I started my journey, but I suppose this is where the whole story actually begins. Well, I decided to wait till Bilbo's birthday--and my birthday--to start. Gandalf caught Sam eavesdropping when we were talking. He was actually working for a conspiracy, but I'll tell you about that later. At least he wasn't all phony about it. He's an honest fellow, Sam. That's the good thing. Except he can be real dumb sometimes too, like that time on my journey when he thought I was dead. Well anyway Gandalf told me to head to Rivendell, where the Elves are. So Pippin, Sam, and I started out, walking in secret to get out of the Shire. On the way this nasty Black Rider appeared on the road. I don't know what he did, but he sort of sniffed for something--I think it was that crazy Ring I'd been carrying around. Well Pippin and Sam got really scared, but I sort of felt like putting on the Ring. I didn't see the big deal. Then we heard some Elves singing. Those Elves...well, they're very complex creatures. A bit superior to all races. Even hobbits.

Whoa...I could go on with this for a long time...tell me what you think.

dragongirlG

[ March 12, 2002: Message edited by: dragongirlG ]

[Lostgaeriel]

The Lord of the Rings as a TV sketch by Johnny Wayne and Frank Shuster.
This great Canadian comedy team appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show 57 or 58 times (a record, anyway) and had a long running CBC-TV program – alternately named - The Wayne and Shuster (Comedy) Hour/Special. They were famous for their sketches that poked fun at: The Scarlet Pimpernel with The Brown Pumpernickel, Sherlock Holmes, Robin Hood, Napoleon, Fu Manchu, etc. Some of their best parodies were of Shakespeare’s plays, notably a baseball skit in verse and their famous take on Julius Caesar - Rinse the Blood off My Toga.
This may be too obscure for most everyone on the Downs. It probably helps if you’re Canadian and over 30 - or 40. But I had to do it for the ‘ear’ joke alone. Of course, I’ve lost some of the very best jokes Johnny and Frank ever did by changing the setting from Rome to Minas Tirith - those Latin jokes were the best. And the ending isn't nearly as strong.
Warning: It’s kinda long. I couldn't figure out what part to post as an excerpt. Forgive me. But Johnny and Frank always went to great lengths in setting up the gags. I think the payoffs are worth it.
Corrections to my Elvish translations would be most appreciated.
Thanks to the transcription of Rinse the Blood Off My Toga by Informal (a member of the Later Latin Society) from the CBS Coronet LP featuring Wayne and Shuster's production of their radio play.

Rinse the Blood off My Elf-Cloak by Wayne and Shuster
Dramatis Personae
Gandalf, a P.I. (original Flavius Maximus role played by Johnny Wayne)
Aragorn, ranger and alleged friend of the deceased (original Brutus role played by Frank Shuster)
Faramir, brother of the deceased (original Calpurnia role made famous by Sylvia Lennick)
Imrahil, prince, orator, friend of the deceased
Beregond, a guard of the Citadel
Targon, a sergeant of a company of the Guard
Arwen, an elf-princess (also originally the Calpurnia role!)

Announcer: "Rinse the Blood Off My Elf-Cloak," by Frank Wayne and John Shuster--with apologies to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh & Philippa Boyens, William Shakespeare (and to Francis Bacon, just in case).
(FX--horn flourish) Minas Tirith! 3019 Third Age.
Gandalf: My name is Mithrandir, Private Istar. Licence number 5. (holds licence up to camera) It also comes in handy as a get-out-of-Middle-Earth-free card. I'm gonna tell ya about the Boromir, son of Denethor caper. It all began during the War of the Ring. I had just nailed Saruman the White; he had a crooked Balrog who kept takin' a dive. Anyhow, I was just beginning to rest on my athelas when, suddenly-- he burst in to my office.
Aragorn: You Gandalf Mithrandir, Private I.?
Gandalf: Private Istar. What can I do for you? What's on your mind?
Aragorn: Just a minute. -- Are we alone?
Gandalf: Yes, we're alone.
Aragorn: Are you sure we're alone?
Gandalf: Yes, yes, I'm sure we're alone!
Aragorn: Then who's that standing beside you?
Gandalf: That's you.
Aragorn: I know, but can I be trusted?
Gandalf: (aside) I could see I was dealing with no ordinary man. This guy was a nut! (to Aragorn) All right, what's on your mind?
Aragorn: Mithrandir, a terrible thing has happened. It's the greatest crime in the history of Minas Tirith.
Gandalf: All right, give it to me straight. What's up?
Aragorn: Boromir, son of Denethor has been murdered!
Gandalf: Boromir, son of Denethor murdered?! (aside) I couldn't believe my ears! Big Bori was dead!
Aragorn: Yes, it happened just a few hours ago. Happened in the Citadel; he was stabbed.
Gandalf: Stabbed? In the Citadel?
Aragorn: No, not in the Citadel. They got him right in the Court of the Fountain.
Gandalf: That's a fatal spot. I had a splinter there once. Those White Tree splinters, you know--
Aragorn: Boy, I tell you, all of Gondor is in an uproar. I came to you because you’re the top Private I. in Middle Earth. You've got to find the killer.
Gandalf: (aside) Hasn’t he got ears? It’s Private Istar - Istar. Well, I'll try.
Aragorn: Oh, you can do it. After all, you're the guy that got Wormtongue and sent him up on the Théoden elder abuse rap--
Gandalf: Yes, the whole kingdom of Rohan was sure in an uproar about that, huh? Aina Elbereth!
Aragorn: Now look, what do you say, Mithrandir? Will you take the case?
Gandalf: Just a minute, pally. I'd like to know - just whom I am working for?
Aragorn: I'm a Ranger. I was Boromir’s best friend. The name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur’s son, Elendil’s son of Númenor.
Gandalf: (aside) What a handle! (to Aragorn) Aragorn, eh? All right, Aragorn, you got yourself a boy. I'll take the case. My fee is 125 silver pennies a day, in advance, of course.
Aragorn: Okay, here you are!
(FX---sound of coins tinkling)
Gandalf: You're one short.
(FX--one more coin)
Aragorn: Hey, you got a good ear.
Gandalf: When it comes to money--perfect pitch.
Aragorn: Let's go, eh?
Gandalf: I'm ready. (aside) We went outside--flagged a passing wain and made our way up Rath Vána. The streets were crowded with the usual people -- Guards, healers, Rangers, Rohirrim, sons of Elrond, and little Pheriannath who came out of doorways to sell you postcards from the Shire. Before long we found ourselves at the Citadel.
Aragorn: Mithrandir, this is where it happened. This is where Big Bori got murdered.
Gandalf: Yeah, well, where is the firnadan?
Aragorn: The what?
Gandalf: The firnadan, firnadan. Whassa matter, don't you understand plain Elvish when you hear it?
Aragorn: Oh, the stiff!
Gandalf: Yeah, yeah.
Aragorn: He's lying right over there.
Gandalf: Would you look at that. Seven daggers in him.
Aragorn: Yeah, what do you think?
Gandalf: I think that if he were alive today, he'd be a pretty sick boy. He's really fixed for blades, eh?
Aragorn: Oh, come on Mithrandir, you gotta solve this crime.
Gandalf: All right, all right. Who are those fellas over there?
Aragorn: They were all here when it happened. That's Gimli, Pippin, Merry, and there's Legolas.
Gandalf: Who's that guy over there with the lean and hungry look on his kisser?
Aragorn: That’s Slinker a.k.a. Stinker a.k.a. Gollum a.ka. Sméagol.
Gandalf: Yeah? … Hey! What’s he doing here? He’s not supposed to be in Minas Tirith! (aside) But then, neither was Boromir. And what had happened to Frodo and Sam? Were they in on this hit? I could see I had more than one mystery to solve. But I knew enough to work on the case that had a client – one who had coin. (to Aragorn) Who do you think is the likeliest suspect?
Aragorn: That fella next to him.
Gandalf: Wait a minute--- that's you!
Aragorn: I know, but how do you know I can be trusted?
Gandalf: (aside) I could see that I was dealing with no ordinary case. This was a mental case. (to Aragorn) Wait a minute, who's that guy?
Aragorn: That's Faramir, Boromir’s brother.
Gandalf: Yeah, well, he’s a suspect, too. Wait a minute. Pardon me, Lord Faramir —
Faramir: Yes?
Gandalf: Mithrandir, Private Istar. I'd like to ask you a few questions. What do you know about this?
Faramir: I told him, ‘Bori, don't go’. ‘Don't go Bori’, I said. ‘Don't go, it's the Ring of Doom--’
Gandalf: Now look, Lord Faramir, I'd--
Faramir: If I told him once, I'd told him a thousand times, ‘Bori, don't go--’
Gandalf: Please, don't upset yourself.
Faramir: ‘Bori, don't go,’ I said. ‘It's the Ring of Doom. Beware already.’
Gandalf: Guard of the Citadel, would you take the Lord Faramir to the Houses of Healing, please?
Beregond: Come along, sir. Come along.
Faramir: (fading away) I told him, ‘Bori don't go, don't go--’
(exeunt Faramir, Beregond)
Gandalf: (aside) I don't blame him for going. (to the Fellowship) All right - you members of the Fellowship, you can go, too. But don't leave town.
Aragorn: Well, what do you think?
Gandalf: I don't know. There's not an angle anywhere. Not a clue.
Aragorn: Cheer up, Mithrandir. After all, Minas Tirith wasn't built in a day.
Gandalf: Hey, what was that? What did you just say?
Aragorn: I said, ‘Minas Tirith wasn't built in a day’.
Gandalf: Hey, that's very good. ‘Minas Tirith wasn't built in a day.’ That's pretty good.
Aragorn: You like it?
Gandalf: Yeah, I like it.
Aragorn: It's yours.
Gandalf: Thanks. Well, let's reconstruct the crime: Boromir was over here, and -- What's the matter?
Aragorn: Look over there, behind that pillar. Sshh! There's somebody behind that pillar; I'll go get him---
Gandalf: Right!
Aragorn: All right buddy!
Imrahil: Ai! Ai! Ai! -- Stop it! Stop it!
Gandalf: All right, buster, what are you doing around here?
Imrahil: Well, what do you expect me to be doing? Why shouldn't I be here? I'm Prince Imrahil.
Gandalf: Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth?
Imrahil: Yes. I just made a speech over the body of Boromir. I said, ‘Elves, Hobbits, countrymen, lend me your ears!’
Gandalf: Yeah? What have you got in that sack?
Imrahil: Ears!
Gandalf: Will you get out of here?!
Imrahil: Wait a minute. Don't you want to know who bumped off Boromir, son of Denethor?
Gandalf: Yeah. Do you know who did it? Out with it. What's his name?
Imrahil: (in pain) Ooh, oo-ee-ooo-aaah-oo-ee-oo-ah-ee-oo-ee-ooo-aaah-
Gandalf: That's a funny name. Must be Old Entish.
Aragorn: Look, he's dead.
Gandalf: (aside) What a confusing case. All I got is two dead bodies and a sack full of pointy latex prosthetic ears.
Aragorn: Now, look, Mithrandir, I'm paying you a 110 silver pennies a day—
Gandalf: 125 silver pennies!
Aragorn: All right, you've got a good ear ---
Gandalf: I've got a sack full of good ears!
Aragorn: Now, look, let's have some action, huh?
Gandalf: All right, all right. Don't get your banner in a knot. Listen, I got a pal -Targon. He runs the storehouse and buttery on Rath Tári. He should have a few answers for me.
Aragorn: That's the idea. Get out among the people. Ask questions. After all, when in Minas Tirith, do as the Minas Tiritheans do!
Gandalf: Hey, hey-- what was that one?
Aragorn: I said, ‘When in Minas Tirith, do as the Minas Tiritheans do’.
Gandalf: Oh, that's good. ‘When in Minas Tirith, do as the Minas Tiritheans do’-- very good.
Aragorn: Do you like it?
Gandalf: Yeah.
Aragorn: It's yours.
(exit Aragorn)
Gandalf: Thanks! (aside) The Citadel Guard Storehouse and Buttery is a hangout where I get all the answers. It's just a small place with a few tables and a guy in the corner playing a cool Dale-made flute.
Targon: Hiya, Gandalf.
Gandalf: Hi, Targ. What's new?
Targon: Nothin' much. What'll ya have?
Gandalf: Give me an Old Winyard.
Targon: Don't you mean Old Winyards?
Gandalf: If I wanted two, I’d say so. By the way, could I have a bite to eat?
Targon: Sure thing. What'll ya have?
Gandalf: I could do with some taters.
Targon: Don't you mean po-ta-toes?
Gandalf: If I wanted a lesson in proper Westron, I'd ask for it.
Targon: Here's your Old Winyard and your taters, Gandi.
Gandalf: Let's get back to the business at hand. I'm working on this Boromir, son of Denethor kill; do you know of anything?
Targon: Try that guy over there.
Gandalf: Yeah?
Targon: Yeah.
Gandalf: All right, brother, start talking--
Faramir: I told him, ‘Bori, don't go. Don't go Bori--’
Gandalf: (to Faramir) All right, out, out!
(exit Faramir)
Targon: Hey, look, Mithrandir, I think I know the guy you're looking for.
Gandalf: You mean, Mr. Big?
Targon: Yeah. His name is—(in pain) Ooee--oooo--ee--ah--
Gandalf: Now that's an interesting name. Got a minstrel handy? I'd like to get this down. Targon? Targon! (aside) I'd never get any more information out of him; he was dead! This was shaping up bigger than I thought. Suddenly, I looked up and there was Aragorn.
Aragorn: Hello, Mithrandir.
Gandalf: Aragorn, what are you doing here?
Aragorn: I was looking for you. Hey, who's that on the floor?
Gandalf: That's Targon, the sergeant.
Aragorn: Hey, that's a funny place to carry a knife -- in his back!
Gandalf: He's dead. He was stabbed -- through the hatch.
Aragorn: Hey, that's even more painful than the Court of the Fountain. Hey, have you come up with any answers? Who killed Boromir, son of Denethor?
Gandalf: (aside) I started to think, and slowly the pieces fell into place. Aragorn was the only man around when all those guys got killed. Boromir, Imrahil, Targon. Aragorn was always there. It was all pointing to him. But what was his motive? And then I suddenly understood why Gollum was here. He was still following the Ring! It was time to make my move.
Aragorn: Well, have you come up with any answers? Who killed Boromir, son of Denethor?
Gandalf: Only one guy could have done it.
Aragorn: Yeah, who?
Gandalf: Let's not play games, Aragorn, or should I say---Mr. Big!
Aragorn: What are you getting at?
Gandalf: If the boot fits, wear it. You knocked off Big Bori. He took the Ring from Frodo and you took it from him.
Aragorn: You're out of your head! I hired you to find the killer.
Gandalf: Pretty smart, but not nearly smart enough. Now, are you gonna talk? Or do I have to call in a couple of Guards to lean on ya?
Aragorn: All right, flatfoot, I admit it. I knocked off Big Bori for the Ring, an' I'd do it again.
Gandalf: That's all I wanted to know. I'm sending you up the Anduin for a long stretch. Come on, I'll call a wain, and we'll go downtown.
Aragorn: Don't move unless you want the Sword that was Broken in the robe. I'm getting out of here, and don't try to stop me!
(exit Aragorn)
Gandalf: (aside) He had the drop on me, but I knew where he was heading--the scene of the crime: the Citadel. Twenty seconds later, I pulled up on my horse, Shadowfax. Hey, he’s a fast horse! (to Beregond) Guard, hand me that Palantír.
Beregond: Here you are, Mithrandir.
Gandalf: All right, Aragorn, this is Mithrandir. I know you're in there, come on out.
Aragorn: Come and get me, you dirty rotten flatfoot!
Gandalf: You haven't got a chance, Aragorn. I got the Citadel surrounded by a stake-out. Now, throw your Sword down, roll the Ring out, and come out with your hands up.
Aragorn: If you want me, come and claim me!
Gandalf: Get smart, Aragorn, we can smoke you out. We'll throw in Longbottom Leaf, Southlinch, Old Toby and Southern Star. We'll throw in firecrackers and squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf-fountains, goblin-barkers and thunder-claps.
Aragorn: I don't care what you do!
Gandalf: All right, you asked for it. (to Beregond) Give it to him, Beregond. (to Aragorn) All right Aragorn, I'll fill you fulla arrows.
Aragorn: All right, you got me! (aside) Grey Fool! Stormcrow! …Wizard! (to Gandalf) But I'll be back.
Gandalf: Oh no you won't.
Aragorn: I'll be back. (aside) There are two more movies after Boromir 'sleeps with the fishes'. (to Gandalf) Just remember one thing - all roads lead to Minas Tirith.
Beregond: Come on you; let's go.
Gandalf: No, no, wait a minute--wait. Bring him back.
Aragorn: What? --- What?
Gandalf: That was a dandy! ‘All roads lead to Minas Tirith.’ That's the best.
Aragorn: Do you like it?
Gandalf: Yes--
Aragorn: Well, you can't have it! (spits)
Gandalf: Oh, get outta here!
(exeunt Aragorn, Beregond)
Host of the West: All Hail Mithrandir! All Minas Tirith salutes you. Hail Mithrandir!
Gandalf: Take him, boys. And now I got a date with a doll. Okay, Evenstar, baby. Now are you sure your fiancé won't object?
Arwen: Well, frankly, I don't care. If I told him once, I told him a thousand times, ‘Don't go, Ari!’ I said, ‘It's the Ring of Doom; beware already. Don't go, Ari, don't go---’ (fade out)
(exeunt Gandalf, Arwen)
(FX---horn flourish)
The End

[ March 18, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]

[ May 19, 2002: Message edited by: Lostgaeriel ]