The Hobbit: A Stupid Journey

Chapter Two: Too many Dwarves to be credible or Funny

Chapter Two: Too many Dwarves to be credible or Funny

After smoking his weed for another few hours, Bibbo decided to call it a night. He yawned, stretched, and headed inside. “Let’s see what’s cooking in the old pot.” He opened the lid over the fire on his cast-iron pot and grimaced. “Ugh, that’s fowl.”

There was a loud knock on the front door. “Get the *)((&(& off my property,” screamed Bibbo.

The knock became louder and more insistent. “I warn you,” screamed Bibbo. “I’ve got a 12 gauge and I’m not afraid to use it!”

The knocking paused for a second and then there was a loud splintering of wood and tramping in the hall. It was a muddy, filthy hall.

“Oh bullocks,” said Bibbo. He grabbed a large wooden spoon and advanced in two-handed ‘ready pose’. As he rounded the corner he laid eyes on the hairiest, ugliest, and nearly shortest person besides himself person he’d ever seen in his brief life of 75 years making him a Lobbit toddler. “Who the @#$$@#$ are you?”

The dwarf turned on him, beard wagging alarmingly. “I’m—”

Bibbo whacked him over the head and downed him at one blow. “Any more of you lot around? I’ll take you all!”

As if in answer to his words, about 13 dwarves stumbled over the wooden threshold to his hole. Not seeing their fallen comrade, all the dwarves bowed so low their noses touched the carpet. The leader, for he wore a dang big gold crown, swept his cape off at Bibbo’s feet. “Care to tread over the pool of mud, my lady Queen?”

“Get off it,” snarled Bibbo. “Off my property, you nags, or I’ll smack you whot I smacked your brother ‘ere.”

“Oi,” said the leader of the dwarves, Thrashing, King over and under the mountains, “What’s with the new stupid, English accent?”

“None of your business,” yelled Bibbo abruptly. “Get out, all of you, I mean it.”

The dwarves all folded their arms. “Oh yeah, try and make us.”

Bibbo, showing a bit more intelligence than usual, paused. The dwarves were fingering sharp axes and looking somewhat menacing. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said politely. “Help yourselves to all the food in my pantry.”

“Jolly good,” said Thrasing, king of the dwarves under the mountains and over them too. “Now you’re talking.

As the dwarves passed him, singing stupid songs, Bibbo muttered, “Now who has a stupid English accent?” He glanced down at the floor where Thrashing, king over and under, had lain his cape for him to trod on. “It’s not that wet in here.” He sploshed down the hall after the dwarves. “Mind the expensive cheeses and wines, will you?”

The dwarves set about eating everything. When they were too full to eat anything more, they chucked the rest on the floor and trod on it just to make a point.

“Are you quite finished?” said Bibbo sarcastically.

“When do you expect the wizard to get here?” Thrashing, the king, asked no one in particular.

There was a load bang and half a wizard appeared. The other half of him sticking through the chandelier and roof. There was some muffled shouting and cursing and then the wizard busted his way out of the roof, inadvertently creating a new sunroof. “I am Gander, and Gander means MEEEEE! Except, of course, when it’s referring to a male goose.”