Saturday, June 13, 2015

What Has It Gots in Its Pocketses?

What a nasty, tricksey, vile hobbitses. "What has its gots in its pocketses?" That's not a riddle. That's just a stupid question.

Fine. I'll play along with your game. You gotta give me a lot of guesses, though. Otherwise, I'm gonna bash your brains out with this rock here, and eat your fat ass, which has to be tastier than orc dick and fish guts. Okay. So lets play.

Does it has a Cliff Bar in its pocketses? No? That seems like the sort of disgusting thing a hobbit would eat. What about a handful of bacon? Wait, wait, lemme guess--a whole egg? Honestly, I just view hobbits as walking breakfasts. Maybe a glass of orange juice? Okay, that was a dumb one. I dunno.

Lint? A bunch of trash? A condom wrapper? Hah, that last one was a joke. I know hobbitses get laid about as much as Sheldon Cooper. Oh, so you think that I have that problem? Hah, no siree. This is a dark cave, holmes. Things wander in and they never come out. A hole is a hole, brotha. You better hope I eat you, hah.

A calculator? Some scribblings? A bunch of tree bark? A squirrel pelt?

A couple bucks? Tissue paper? Chewing gum? A paperback novel? Maybe Crime and Punishment or Infinite Jest? Neither of those two doorstoppers would fit, however, although hobbitses have pretty deep pocketses. You look like you're more of a James Patterson or Janet Evanovich fan. Maybe you like science fiction. You're a nerdy looking hobbit, after all. No, you're not a reader. I can see the lack of imagination on your fat face.

A doughnut? A piece of cheese? Some old babyteeth? A couple quarters? Am I hot, warm? Come on. I'm humoring you, here. You gotta give me a hint or something. A photo of Nicholas Cage? A pair of underpants? A notebook? Your keys?

All right, this game sucks. I don't care anymore, okay? I don't give a shit what you have in your pocketses. Just get the fuck outta here. I can't bear to see your stupid hobbit face.

Wait a minute. Goddamn it. Where is my ring? I found that in a box of Cracker Jacks! You know how hard it is to get Cracker Jacks beneath the Misty-fucking-Mountains? You stole it, didn't you? You piece of shit! Get your ass back here, fat boy. Hey, don't put that on. You asshole. You're fucking up my whole way of life here. How do you think a one-hundred-pound heroin addict manages to throttle three-hundred pound orcs? I use a goddamn magic ring, that's how. Oh my god, you are so dead. Well fuck it. I need a hit anyway. Next asshole that wanders down here, I'm not talking to. I'm just going to bludgeon him to death.

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