Fictionlet

Greg blinked, bleary-eyed, as Brigid came wandering in. "Oy," said Brigid. "You look like I feel."

"Had a rough night," Greg said. "Ozymandias kept walking all over me; then at the very first glimmer of dawn, he started stomping on my head. I'm surprised I don't have pawprints all over my face."

"Heh," said Brigid. "Reminds me of the old joke about corduroy pillows."

"Corduroy pillows? What old joke about corduroy pillows?"

"Oh, come on," said Brigid. "Surely you've heard the joke about corduroy pillows, Mr. Bon Mot."

"This is the first I've ever heard of such a thing," Greg said, blinking in surprise. "How does it go?"

Brigid shrugged and said, "Have you heard about the new corduroy pillows? They're making headlines!"

Greg, apparently attempting to play along, replied, "No, I haven't. Please tell me about the new corduroy pillows."

Brigid blinked. "Uh, no. That's it."

"What's it?"

"That's the joke."

"But you haven't said anything."

"No, no, that's the joke. 'Have you heard about the new corduroy pillows. They're. Making. Headlines.'"

Greg shook his head, brow furrowed. "I don't think you get how a joke is supposed to work," he said. "You deliver a setup, then a punchline. All you've got there is a setup. So there's new corduroy pillows that are getting a lot of press. Okay. So now you've got to follow that up with a punchline."

"That is the punchline, doofus. They're making headlines."

"Why is being in the newspaper funny?"

Brigid smacked her palm to her face. "Look," she said. "You go to sleep on a corduroy pillow, you wake up with lines on your face, right?"

"If you say so," said Greg.

"Well, there you go. You've got headlines. From the corduroy pillow. It's not in the newspaper, it's on your face!"

"Then shouldn't it be, 'they're making facelines?'"

"But then there wouldn't be a joke!" said Brigid.

"There isn't a joke now!" said Greg.

"Forget it," said Brigid, heading back for the hallway. "I'm chucking today in and calling for a do-over."

-The Gneech

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Life of a Bounder, Part IV

Only a month behind now. Soon it’ll be current!

December 20, 2008
Maedhroc finds himself, much against his will, being taken further and further from the Shire. He’s seeing lots of places he’s only heard about from his old gaffer, but for the most part, they were places he was content to have only heard about — like the Old Forest, where he met this bizarre fellow.

Hey dol, derry dol, what-the-hooey-are-you-saying???

Then he’s sent eastward as a messenger boy for the rangers. Did he really work his way to Honourary Shirriff just to end up delivering mail again? But at least he got to see some sights along the way.

We’re on the wrong side of the Misty Mountains for Erebor — that must be the famous Weathertop.

Yup, that’s Weathertop all right.

What’s next, delivering pies to Rivendell?

Meanwhile, half a continent away, Galadhalion comes to the unhappy realization that Moria has sewers, and he’s in them.

Don’t step in balrog scat, whatever you do. 0.o

-The Gneech

Originally published at gneech.com. You can comment here or there.

Postcards From Middle-Earth

( From your friend in the Shire... )