The Jimmy

Pettytyrant101 wrote:Knowing Anon and his subversive scribblings it'll be rasberry too, favourite flavour of the Queens buckie. There is a republican hiding under those words you mark my word

I assure you, Ol' Anon has no use for old and peurile rasperberry jelly jokes, whether politically correct or not, nor Republican nor Monarchist neither.... There are other flavours you know!

Chapter the Fifth....


The last thing you would have expected in the circumstances would be that Julia and Shish should start talking about jelly baths - this only moments after persuading the dwarvish guards to let them in after much eyelash fluttering and suggestive language - and as soon they read and followed the first sign to Kházad Dúm.

In the brght lit tunnel, Shish was saying: "Jelly is good for the complexion, and don't I know after all the time I've been in the wilds looking for a mysterious Trinket in possession of some hobbitish thief that i need some squidgy jelly to soften my skin."

"But only after firstly indulging myself with a good shower," Julia was saying. "I'd need to wash off all this infernal grit and grime from my voluptuous body, and then have someone with very soft but flexible hands rub me all over with fragant oils, and only then could I ever think to select the flavour."
 
"I have soft flexible hands," Shish told her.

"Oh fabulous!" Julia exclaimed. And she took Shish's hand like they were good old girl-chums  "We shall be such great friends, I know it."

"But what if there is only one bath available?"

"I think then we must take turns of course," Julia laughed.

"Oh I'd let you go first."

"No I think I'd let you go first."

"Perhaps you two could bathe together," Jimmy put in helpfully.

"Oh splendid!" Shish and Julia laughed in unison.

"I'd suggest raspberry jelly," Jimmy suggested.

"Oh twice splendid!" they replied and further said, "And perhaps you could even join us, Jimmy."

Jimmy grinned as he had to admit the suggestion had some merit. "Oh happy day! This all seems so unreal!"   

And he was right, of course; he was daydreaming.

Julia approached the dwarf guards at the Gates of Moria, one of whom looked the leader.

"Hello Mister Dwarf, what's your Name?"

"Coin, second son of Gloin. Who are you and state your business!"

"I am a poor but incredibly beautiful young woman lost in the wilds. And this beautiful elf isn't a goblin at all but a beautiful elf also lost in the wilds. Can we come in?" And Julia and Shish fluttered their eyelashes.

"Mmm, mmm-mmmm, I don't see why not..... but who is this third one with you? He looks your typical dolty Scotshobbit."

"That's because he is your typical dolty Scotshobbit," Julia told him sweetly.

"Brazenly stupid in fact," Shish assisted just as sweetly.

"Oh alright then," Coin said, as he quite fancied Julia and Shish - and who of us dear readers don't? - and he wanted to please them. "So long as he doesn't do anything incredibly stupid while he's on his way up the tunnels to Kh'azad Dúm where Lord Balin resides with his roaring faggots."

Julia gave Jimmy a sharp look. "Did you hear that Jimmy? Do you promise not to do anything incredibly stupid?"

"I'll try not to."

"Good enough," Julia smiled. "Let us in dear Coin," and she fluttered her eyelashes again and soon they were on their way up to see the Lord of Moria.


to be continued...

You recognize the power of a woman's mascara then ?

"So long as he doesn't do anything incredibly stupid while he's on his way up the tunnels to Kh'azad Dúm where Lord Balin resides with his roaring faggots."

Shouldn't this be 'flaming faggots'?

Not in Forumshire Things that roar, flame & things that flame, roar

"That's because he is your typical dolty Scotshobbit," Julia told him sweetly.

"Brazenly stupid in fact," Shish assisted just as sweetly.

"Oh alright then," Coin said, as he quite fancied Julia and Shish - and who of us dear readers don't? - and he wanted to please them. "So long as he doesn't do anything incredibly stupid while he's on his way up the tunnels to Kh'azad Dúm where Lord Balin resides with his roaring faggots."

Julia gave Jimmy a sharp look. "Did you hear that Jimmy? Do you promise not to do anything incredibly stupid?"

"I'll try not to."

roaring faggots

Chapter the Fitfth continued...


"Now Jimmy, you have promised to not do anything incredibly stupid while we're here," Julia said to Jimmy as they walked along the underground roadways and byways of Moria. "You did promise that."  

"I only promised I'd try not to do anything incredibly stupid," Jimmy said. "I'm not sure why you keep bringing it up. This is the third time since entering Moria."

"That's true," Shish put in wisely. "I guess if he does end up doing something incredibly stupid - and I suspect that'll be sooner rather than later - you have done all you can to prevent it, Jules."

"I just think there is a fateful aspect to all this incredibly stupid talk, Shishy."

"That goes without saying," Shish said gently and took and caressed Julia's nervous hand in what may or may not have been a platonic way. "I have only been in this tale for five or six scenes and I'm already beginning to understand how incredibly predictable Ol' Anon can be."

"Though he does throw up the occasional unredictable thing," Jimmy offered, which the reader might, or might not, predict he would say, and/or think or not think true. This was because Ol' Anon believes in the freedom of his readers to think whatever they want, especially if it's something really really nice, otherwise you can all go to hell.

They came to an Inn about halfway to Kházad Dúm. The dwarf who owned it, Jill, was a rather interesting character in her own right, but she doesn't come into this story except in passing.

As the three were about to head off to their room, which contained a double bed and a single sleeping platform (or a rectangular irregularity in the stone floor if you like), Jill said: "Now, whatever you do, don't go up the road, turn left and approach the fortified mithril barrier-door you'll find there; bur in the event one of you do, definitely don't open it under any circumstances. Listen to me on this! Listen very very carefully, as this is vitally important. Don't open that fortified mithril barrier-door under any circumstances."  

"What an odd thing to mention," Shish commented once she and Julia assisted each other to undress for bed while Jimmy laid out a few of his best rags on the sleeping platfom.  

"I thought the same thing," Julia answered. "I suspect we best adhere to Jill's wishes."

"Assuredly," Shish agreed. "My, this bed will be quite a snug fit for two voluptuous young women like us!"

"Yes, it's just as well we are perfectfully formed women and not the least bit tubby."

The next thing they jumped gleefully into bed and had pulled up the covers.

Jimmy had to admit he would have preferred that comfortable bed just now to his own sleeping arrangements.  

In the night he woke up, and a rather unexpected question was on his febrile mind.

'I wonder why we shouldn't open that fortified mithril barrier-door?'

Now, the reader may have concluded by now that Jimmy was by no means clever, but he had all the curiousity of a cat: and he thought further: 'Well, I could at least go and have a look so long as I don't open that fortified mithril barrier-door under any circumstances."

So, not being able to sleep, Jimmy wandered off up the road, turned left, and before long came to the said fortified mithril barrier-door. And it was huge! Big enough indeed to fit a medium sized balrog through it, or at least any kind of monster or elephant or smaller sperm whale the size of a medium sized balrog.

There was a sign on the door lit by a brightly flickering candle.    

BEWARE!

A BALROG IS LOCKED AWAY IN A CHAMBER AT THE BOTTOM OF A TUNNEL BEHIND THIS DOOR.

DO NOT LET THE BALROG OUT

NO, NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!

By Order of Balin son of Fundin.  



Now you will be thinking that not even Jimmy would be incredibly stupid enough to open that door under any circumstances, and, indeed at first, he was happy with just peeping through a convenient peephole. Unfortunately, he could only see the distant hint of  a red glow down the end of a dark tunnel. Jimmy thought about it while he peered. He thought and peeped, and then thought and peeped some more.

"I bet that balrog is sleeping," he decided at last. "So if I could sneak down there I could have a peek, then sneak back here, lock the door securely, and no one would be the wiser. Of itself, that would not be incredibly stupid methinks, though I accept there may be some inherent risks involved, risks which on reflection I'm willing to take so I'm able to tell my friends and family that I once saw a balrog and lived to tell the tale.'

All of this of course makes perfect sense, if you're a Scotshobbit. So Jimmy carefully unsnibbed the door, pulled it slightly open (being of mithril, it was incredibly light for such a huge construction) and he tiptoed down the tunnel and took a peek at the sleeping balrog. Never fear, dear reader, the balrog did not wake up, and Jimmy got back quite safely. (If you want to know what a balrog looks like, I suggest you read LotR, though if you prefer a poor imitation, try PJ). Just as he was closing the door again, he heard urgent footsteps coming up from the Inn. Jimmy closed the door quickly - though there was no clicking noise from the snib - and the approaching dwarves in full armour found him peeping innocently through the peephole.  

"Hey! What are you up to you dolty Scotshobbit?"

"I'm just peeping through this peephole, nothing more," Jimmy lied, which was out of character for him really, but a sixth sense warned him he would be in for it if he told the truth on this occasion.

"Well, we heard the alarum go off," said one suspicious dwarf.

Jimmy looked up nervously and saw the taut string between doorknob and a hole in the roof of the tunnel, no doubt connected to an alarum bell somewhere. He thought quickly. "I did rattle the door," he lied again, feeling a bit sweaty. "Or, at least, I probably rattled it... Yes, that's what I must have done..."

"Aha!" said the suspicious dwarve in relief. "That'd be what set off the alarum bell. Not even a dolty Scotshobbit would be stupid enough to open this particular door."

And all the dwarves had a good laugh about it and in a jolly fraternity, escorted Jimmy back to the Inn.


   

to be continued....

{{{ Nothing quite compares to the blood-curdling effects of reading one of the old masters. }}}

{{{I myself detect a Hitchcockian flavour, after reading your encryted thoughts, Halfy.   Though Ol' Anon can be quite cavalier and an unguided missile when it comes to being plagiaristic or not. Sometimes his plagiarism comes unconciously, I swear it!}}}}

{{{I myself detect bloody liberties being taken and a great deal of cheek! }}}}

{{{Keep in mind that Wholesome Tales have their own rhyme and reason, Petty. Also, all characters are purely fictional for reasons directly reataing to Ol' Anon's personal safety and security. }}}

that Shish is going to get Kebabed

Okaaaaayyyy....

Chapter the Fifth...

Now uncomfortable times where you are in imminent danger, have knives stabbing you in the dark, fleeing huge spiders, and such-like, takes pages and pages to write (apparently), while quieter more fun times are over quickly. Balin son of Fundin being wise and friendly and hospitable to a fault made their few days a memorable experience for them, but this would make dull writing if I told you everything, every meal, every song, every roaring faggot with haunches dripping in their heat. Anyway, after a few days, the three adventurers decided to head off on their way again, having decided that living under a mountain in Kh'azad Dúm was not really their kind of thing. Shish became irritable first, for though she enjoyed all Julia's kebabbing, she found tunnel life to be a bit tedious after five thousand or so years of it, and she became bored quickly, and she reckoned Julia's kebabbing could happen anywhere anyway; and so Jimmy suggested they might as well continue on with the original adventure, the one about stealing Puff'n'Suff the Homeopathic's treasure. So Balin filled their packs with all sorts of sensible supplies and off they went down Dimrill Dale.

They were halfway down the vale when they heard the sound of a thousand marching feet (perhaps two thousand, it's hard to tell with marching feet) and Shish (knowing the sound - reverberation actually - of orc marching feet ony too well) cried: "Hide behind these bushes! Quick!"

And so the three adventuers ducked behind the indicated bushes, only just in time, as eighteen hundred and fourty three heavilly armed orcs (of the worst kind) came marching around a rocky spur taking about twenty seven minutes to get past them. When they were gone, Shish said, "I don't know what they're thinking, for clearly they march up to Moria, but Moria is heavilly gaurded with ramparts and buttresses and mattresses and a strong gate. They'll never get in with the stout dwarvish resistance they'll meet."

"How incredibly stupid of them," Jimmy had to laugh. "If they try a frontal attack they'll be doomed. Doomed! Doomed! Doomed!"

"That was a bit over the top," Julia opined. "And don't be so sure about all that doom stuff. Things may not be as cosy for the dwarves as you think."

"How can you know to say that?"

"I feel it in my waters that's how!"

"Oh tosh and tiddlywinks!" Jimmy grinned. "And they say I'm incredibly stupid, do they?" and he laughed again. "Those orcs won't stand a chance. They don't even have a balrog working for them from the inside! He's securely locked behind a fortified Mithril barrier-door!"  

"Enough said," Julia yawned. "I think the reader gets the point by now."

"Where to now?" Shish asked. "I daresay Lothlorien is out of the question for me."

"Indeed," Julia said sadly. "But I guess, girly-chum, I'll have to forgo that. Now there may be some readers - one especially I guess - who doesn't care much for our story arc, but in this tale I'm incredibly satisfied with our arrangement - because of course this is purely fictional and peurility is more than acceptable with the hot sweaty breathy readers of Forumshire."

"Only too true," Jimmy said sadly, he being quite celibate in real life (some say because of the buckie).

"Which way do we go now?" Shish asked.

"Yes, where does Puf'n'Stuff live by the way?" Julia put in. "I've never thought to ask before."

"That'll have to wait until next chapter," Jimmy told her.

And so they sat on a rock together and waited.




to be continued.....

I suspect a certain Scotshobbit is about to start never living something down.

To be honest, I don't think even JRRT (like Jimmy) was aware of Jimmy's hand in things.

the lack of Jimmy Kebabbing is sad

I really don't know what you mean, Mrs Figg? Is that a boon or a doom?

but Moria is heavilly gaurded with ramparts and buttresses and mattresses and a strong gate. .........................................

probably boom then doom.

Chapter Six

An Unexpected Predictable Change of Direction


Now the reader may be thinking that Jimmy was in a bit of a tight spot now. Why? Well, the truth be known, he had no idea where Puff'n'Stuff lived, other than on an island somewhere which he had assumed was south east of the Scottish Hebrides and east of the Riding (or The Shire as The Riding is known in the Common Tongue).

And though Shish and Julia waited patiently enough for awhile, at last they became impatient, especially Julia who (some say) was a bit impatient at times with Jimmy (apparently).

"Alright, you dolty Scotshobbit," Julia exploded when her frustration had grown from mild to excrutiating. "You have no idea where Puff'n'Stuff lives do you?"

Jimmy blushed. He was feeling incredibly stupid just then.

"This reminds me of that old song," Julia winced. "Now how does it go? Oh yes!"

'A Scotshobbit by mood and deed
Is in gardening terms a weedy weed,
His brain is small just like a seed
But when it grows, it grows indeed!

Oh why are they so incedibly stupid,
When it comes to Eros, or bowman Cupid,
Under scalp and kilt some say putrid,
Why can't they be like James or Rupert!'

Now this was quite a harsh song to sing about Sotshobbits, and really, I'm not sure it was called for to be honest, but there you have it. The result? Poor old Jimmy became incredibly angry at Julia. As the reader will know, it is the worse kind of way to be insulted, being insulted in a song, and the traditional response was to hit back with a song (and I can't criticise Jimmy for doing it, as much as my decency tells me I should, for is the hunger for vengeance not lodged in the deepest recesses of the Scotshobbitan psyche?)

'Oh how beautiful her carbuncled-eyes,
Her smile makes of grey a bright blue sky,
Her voice like a kiss or tender breeze,
Her elbows soft above velvet knees.

Oh how lovely her lickticious tongue,
Her bent for joy, her twist for fun,
Oh how serene her gaze upon my face,
As we walk hand in hand in Eru's Grace!'

Now, admittedly, Jmmy had been viciously provoked by Julia's song (though how viciously is always hard to tell when it comes to songs), but I really think he had taken it all a bit too far, don't you? The point is: I think Julia can be forgiven for not turning the other cheek at all, at all.

'Oh look at you, you horny chap,
With your jaunty jib, wry old hat,
Hat, you say? Oh no, a cap!
So very joyous to look at!

Your eyes are now full of chic cheek,
Oh look! Your velvety feet,
Do a dance, so svelte so sweet,
Oh stone me dead if I should meet,

Such a sexy Scotshobbit again,
In Bywater or Southern Spain,
With such a gentle but violent brain:
And if it's love, it's also pain.' 
 
Shish tried to intervene, "Come on you two, this can't all be as bad as to descend to this level of psychosexual love-abuse!"

"Sorry, Shish, but I feel I just have to have the last say on this!" Jimmy grumbled.

"That'd be right," Julia put in somewhat triumphantly.

Jimmy gritted his teeth. 'Well, she's asked for it now and I'm going to give it to her!"

'Ock tha noo, you sparkiling dew,
Your moistened lips so sweetly true,
Oh how I'd like to cuddle you,
And stroke your face of moonlit hue,

Take me in your lucious arms,
Bring this raging sea to calm,
Wth your loving words from off the farm,
Make our love a sensual balm.'  

Julia fairly went red like fire and turned her beauteous visage away to stare resolutely into infinity.

Shish was shocked, as in five thousand years she had never heard anything so horrible.

And Jimmy realized immediately how incredibly stupid he was to sing that particular Scotshobbit song, so pregnant with meaning and usually reserved for sheep; and he knew now what a cad he could be to women when in the mood, and a rush of gloomy feelings beset him, a turbulent mix of shame, depression, self-depreciation and deepest deepest confusion; indeed, if any emotion stood forth in prominence, it was confusion, sheer confusion; and who among us dear reader could not but share it?



to be continued...

And Jimmy realized immediately how incredibly stupid he was to sing that particular Scotshobbit song, so pregnant with meaning and usually reserved for sheep;

Chapter the Sixth continued...

Circumstances had become parlous, I grant you, but deep down Jimmy and Julia knew that however much they love-hated each other the quest must continue, for they had come too far to not complete it, honour demanded it, and Shish was keen too, she said. So they decided without having to discuss it to continue on, east again, each hoping siliently this was the way.

They came to a river which, remembering descriptions he had heard in old tales preceding the compilation of the Red Book of Westmarch by about twenty years later give or take five years or so, Jimmy immediately recognised as the Anduin. It was a mighty flow just north of Lothlorien and it posed them a problem.

"If we are to keep going east," Jimmy said. "We will have to find a way to cross over this river."

"Well, how clever of you," Julia said in that sassy sarcastic bitchy way some say she did sometimes (apparently). "Do you plan to grow wings?"

Jimmy turned his gaze suddenly to the sky.

"What now?" Julia further sassed him. "Are you checking out for flight paths and turbulence?"

"No, I'm distracted by that big black dot that apears to be moving at a sharp aeronautical trajectory across the sky there." Jimmy pointed upward. "See that cloud that looks like a sheep."

"I can't see any sheep - you don't mean that goat, do you?"

"No, it's definitely a sheep."

"Goat!"

"Hebridean sheep look marginally like goats from a great distance I grant you..."  

"Whatever the case," Shish intervened. "It looks like a Black Rider except he's riding a black dinosaur now."

"Hide!" Julia cried. "For I mislike that flying Back Rider."

"What have you got against Black Riders anyway?" Jimmy wanted to know, though he obeyed Julia's command (as usual) and ducked down behind a rock with the other two and so concealed himself. "I hope it's not your infernal waters acting up again?"

"My waters aren't infernal, you idiot, they're pure and joyous, though not at the moment, not joyous, as just now they're bubbling away in a ferment."

"They're fermenting now, are they?" Jimmy expostulated, completely confused now.  

"Shush!" Julia hissed as she felt around for a stone to hit him with.

Suddenly, a fleeting shadow swooped over head in a whistly rush of wind, evil wind, cold chilly wind, scentless and yet horrible to behold nonetheless. Even Jimmy had misgivings suddenly about Black Riders, for his blood had frozen, not literally, but definitely metaphorically.

"It lands among the reeds down the river bank!"  Shish whispered in terror. "I know what it is, for even goblins fear the Nazgul!"

"It's coming for us! It's coming for us!" Julia hissed just terrified.

Jimmy felt a lump in his throat. Maybe Julia was right for once - he guessed it was possible she could be right at least once, if only according to the laws of probability or chance - but why did she have to be right now? He really didn't like his blood being frozen. But then there was another rush of wings and a huge sense of imminence was lifted from their hearts. They looked out from beside the rock and saw a huge monstrous dinosaur lifting with it's Rider into the sky. Away it flew laboriously on huge pterodactyl-like wings.

"Oh how glad I am he's gone!" Julia sighed. "But wait! I see someone moving amid the reeds along the river!"

Jimmy tensed and looked too. There was a section or reeds beaten down where the Black Rider had landed, and just this side of it they saw reeds being pushed aside as a little figure pushed through them.

"Well, he could have landed on the bank and not among all these weeds," complained a familiar voice. "And would you just look at this! My boots are wet and muddy now! How bloody unrespectable!"



to be continued....

Oh dear no tale is improved with respectability

I've just begun to notice how this tale resembles that of a certain Cugal the Clever. I doubt respectability is anywhere in sight!