The Hobbit: A Stupid Journey

Chapter Three: To Kidnap a Lobbit (Requires Nothing)

Chapter Three: To Kidnap a Lobbit (Requires Nothing)

“Oh it’s you, you *()&(&(&(,” said Bibbo to the wizard standing in his destroyed living room. “I suppose you’re the one who summoned all these blasted dwarves, then?”

Gander shrugged. “You asked for it.”

“What are you talking about, you brain-impaired old man?”

“You said you were a great thief, now’s your chance to prove it.”

“Stupid git,” muttered Bibbo.

Gander glared at him. “I’d be careful with my words if the other guy could light my pants on fire and throw a fireball strong enough to blow my house past Kingdom Kome and into the realm of fairies.”

Bibbo, for the second time this night, displayed untoward intelligence and took pause. While he was pausing the dwarves tired of eating and defiling food, and moved on to smashing everything within reach including all his cutlery.

“Smash the plates, bend the forks, spoon the girls—oh bullocks it,” said Thrashing. “I hate that song anyway. He took a plate in two hands and smashed it against the floor.

Bibbo stared at him for a full two seconds as he repeated this with another plate. “Oh wow, lot of class and intelligence that shows, you hairy infant.”

Thrashing slapped a document of parchment in his hand. “You’re now our official Thief.”

“Don’t I have to sign it or something.”

All the dwarves shook their heads. “We’re shanghaiing and capturing you.”

“What?” said Bibbo.

“He means,” said Boff you in the Head (another dwarf), “We’re kidnapping your sorry little arse, you (*(&(.”

“I didn’t mean ‘what?”, said Bibbo, “I meant ‘what!’. Now get out of my house before I call the cops like any sensible person would do.”

“Enough,” cried Gander. He smashed Bibbo over the head with his staff.

When he woke up, Bibbo found himself tied securely to a pony. “Lot of good this is going to do you lot,” he yelled at the dwarves. “I mean, how can I thieve anything from a dragon if you’ve got me tied to a pony.”

“Eventually,” said Boff you in the Head, “We’re sure you’ll warm up to our )(*)&*(*)ing personalities.”

“Oh yeah, that’s likely,” snarled Bibbo. He tried to gnaw through his bonds, but the flavor was somewhat stale. “Mind giving me a hanky?”

“What for?” asked Thrashing, king of all the dwarves no matter where they were.

“I want to stuff it down your arse, up your mouth, and out through your nostrils, you slimy little toad with fur.”

Thrashing massaged his beard. “It is not wise to insult a dwarf king.”

“Who’s gonna stop me? For a stupid dwarf king, I don’t see your army anywhere near here.”

Thrashing gave him a dark, dour look. “They were killed when the Elves aided us in battle.”

“Context,” said Bibbo.

“Long ago, my father, Grain, was a greedy (*()*))*). He had so much gold, man, I’m not even going to lie. Anyway, a dragon took it and killed us all, save a few who escaped and became black smiths.”

“And the elves?” asked Bibbo, curiosity getting the better of gnawing old rawhide.

“They helped in the battle and died too. Now we owe them about a billion quid.”

“Shame that,” said Bibbo. “I figure they’ll never get their money back out of the likes of you.”

“Don’t insult a dwarf’s honor,” said Thrashing.

“Insult it?” said Bibbo with amusement. “I’d trod on it, spit on it, roll it in the mud, and then defecate on it.”

Thrashing whipped his axe an inch from Bibbo’s throat and Boff your head off rushed off to retrieve it for him. Bibbo’s eyes went wide. “Much obliged for your mercy, O’ Master Dwarf.”

"I missed," said Thrashing, King of da' Dwarves.