The Jimmy

American? Trolls?

azriel wrote:Im enjoying it

Oh, we all do. The thing is rather that they pretend not to.

How'd he know to throw latitudes and sun angle in there?  I've actually written stuff about that! Very creepy...

turned to pumpkins

love the poem , in particular

What if I were to give you things,
The gold of daisies bright?
And lovely leaves of Mallorn trees,
And sweet peas pungent and white?

This is why when I stop for much needed relief at Dave's fields on the way home from the Duck n Muck its very hard to tell how drunk I am- you just never know what you might see on his farm

halfwise wrote:How'd he know to throw latitudes and sun angle in there?  I've actually written stuff about that!  Very creepy...

If Ol'Anon is assuredly anything he's assuredly creepy.

Mrs Figg wrote:  turned to pumpkins

love the poem    , in particular  

What if I were to give you things,
The gold of daisies bright?
And lovely leaves of Mallorn trees,
And sweet peas pungent and white?

Poems are tricky things - they sometimes start out as a slanty take on Lewis Carroll but turn up being a mild replica of JRR Toliken. They have a mind of their own!   Which is just as well I guess, otherwise it would be prose, a safer more orderly thng, and poetry should never be that.

David H wrote:

Davo remained seated - if a pumpkin can ever be said to be seated .

My gawd! Art does mirror Life in the most unexpected ways sometimes.

Pettytyrant101 wrote:This is why when I stop for much needed relief at Dave's fields on the way home from the Duck n Muck its very hard to tell how drunk I am- you just never know what you might see on his farm

There is something quite unsettling about that, Petty.

Typical Ozhobbit not that sort of relief Bladder relief, as well offloading that nights deep fried battered haggis supper.
By Eru if I could get that sort of relief by just visiting Dave's fields I wouldn't defecate in them half as often as I do

Chapter the Second continued..

"They call them squash in America of course, I do declare," Julia commented as they made their way toward Believe Hill along the Believe Hill Road, having decided to cease skirting the Ancient Forest. "And some are yellow in the middle, and others orange, and a few are actually yellowy-orange - if in fact that colour actually exists."

"Or 'hue' to be precise," Jimmy puffed at the rickshaw handles. "Though I think it's time to move on from that kind of discussion."

"Well and truly and overduly time," Julia agreed emitting a rather lovely and delicate yawn that gave her face a dreamy gorgeous look that, if Jimmy had not his back to her, would have made his heart wriggle with the efferent gyrations of the legendary Worm of Love of Scotshobbit tradition; oh verily, if only he had lucked upon to see her raptuous beauty just then in the fair morning's lightedness. "I hope there are no Americans on Believe Hill," Julia added suddenly for reasons known only to the author, and not even him really. "They're just about everywhere nowadays. Forumshire would be a much better place without them, though I don't know why I say it."

"It's like Ol' Anon is working up to something."

"Probaly some witty joke, though daresay he's winging it at the moment hoping something will just pop up."

They fell silent for awhile, but no, nothing witty poped up just then.

"Sing me a song about Believe Hill," Julia requested at last. "I'm not waiting for an American joke all day."

"What would you like - a comic poem or something romantic again?"

"Just start and we'll see where it goes."

"Some could say that kind of ad-libby thing is quite show-offy."

"True. Start nonetheless."

"The Ballad of Boppo Burn and Esmeralda Brandyduck might work. [cough][clearing voice][stalling for time][then at last]:

There is a Hill a merry old Hill if Hill's can be said to be merry,
Where Boppo Burn saw Esmralda Brandyduck in the tavern drinking sherry.

Oh fairest brown skinned farmer girl - in June - can you take my hand for dancin',
Oh Boppo you romantic sod I never knew you for such romancin'... "

"That's not bad so far," Julia said (while Ol' Anon frantically took a moment in the pause to consider catchy lines to start the next verse).

Jimmy then stutteringly continued:

"Is it the song of nightingales you'd hear me sing dear lady who harvests onions?
Or a knight errant with jaunty jodhpurs on his piebald steed due to his painful bunions?"



(Dear reader, I find it helps to think of a word - usdally a vegetable will do, and then think of a rhyme and make the rest of the line evolve to give it meaning - though absurdity is okay if you can't think of anything immediately. I'll try it both ways to see if I can prove it.


A Scotshobbit was idly playing with his marrow,
He tripped on it down Believe Hill what a silly fellow.

OR:

A Scotshobbit was eating peaches
but a barrell has not such features.

Nah. I might try again some other time. Sometimes it works, sometimes it don't).



Jimmy went on:

"Fancy romancy hap'nin' here, Ezzy gasped hand pressed to her breast,
The Muck and Duck of Believe Hill is afterall the dullest town out west.

But enough of geography, sweet man, just give me your sleaziest embraces,
Ply me with apple brew and buckie bold to unbind my velvet places.

I think part of me ascends for love, I hope you see!
Of course I do, you lovely man, now press your ascent on me.

Thus dancing by the roaring fire - and drinking deep on buckie -
Bop and Ezzy coursed away the night - and later both got lucky."

"That is nowhere as evocative as the one about Bob and Coast Mary, though it does have a certain odd and familiar charm." Julia smiled and sighed. "I confess I do like poetry, even banal stuff like this at times. Anyhow - how far is it to Believe Hill now?"

"There it is up ahead. That big mound of green grass and brown walls and buildings."

"Thank goodness. I hope we have something interesting happen there."

"Something truly interesting?"

"Faint hope, I know, but as they say, you never know."






to be continued...    

Chapter the Third

At The Sign of the Prancing Pony (which may come as a surprise to some expecting it to be Believe and not Bree, but there you go)


Wearily, and somewhat truculently with it, Jimmy trudged up (what he thought was) Believe Hill. Julia however, nestled in her cushions, was in good spirits.

"I like the look of this place," she made banter. "You know, if I didn't know better  I would have thought it a carbon copy of Bree,  judging by Tolkien's description and not PJ's realization. Right down to the wall and the dishonest looking gatekeeper up ahead in fact."

"You're right," Jimmy said, becoming alert (and somewhat suspicious). "This doesn't look like Believe at all. I mean, where are the western cesspits for a start, and the lepers and scurvied child beggars, and the 'Odo Banks owns this town' sign which was plasted all over the gates last I came here?"

They drew up to the gate and an old man came out.

"Harry?" Jimmy exclaimed.

"Aye! Is that you Jimmy? Fancy you being here, and on dusk? Bad time to come - what with those Black Riders ridin' about - and those orcish looking men just come up the Greenway."

"My gawd," Jimmy exclaimed. "If I didn't know better I'd reckon we're on the very edge of plagiarism!"

"Well over, I'd say," Julia opined. "Nonetheless, I'd rather come here. Believe sounds a foppish kind of place, and, frankly almost homosexual . Now Bree is a fair dinkum kind of creation."

"And who may you be fair maiden?" Harry asked, looking Julia over with the beady eyes of Man.

"Hey! Stop undressing me, you bastard. And let us through."

"Why, you're a feisty one. Okay ma'am. I warn you, there's no room anywhere in Bree due to a Festival of some sort or something or other 'cept for one room (it's said) at The Prancing Pony."

"Oh splendid, that'd be just the ticket, old prick," Julia exclaimed. "Hurry on Jimmy!" she added giving Jimmy a sharp flick with her riding crop to his buttocks. Jimmy giggled - as was his want in such circumstances - and he hauled the rickshaw on up the street between rustic buildings - half big, half small - in the direction of The Prancing Pony.

Four hobbits in dark cloaks marched up to the gate behind them, but Julia, though she tried to eavesdrop their conversation with Harry, could not pick up much of what they said. Though she heard,"'Black Riders' and "Isn't it fine this evening, Harry, I hope all is well with you, and your lady wife, if you have one, and the kids, if you have any?' and, "Oh thanks, they're fine, 'cepting Jenny has a bit the ague, not that you're likely to know my daughter Jenny, Mister.. what was your name again, Sir...?' but then they were totally out of hearing range.

"That's it," Julia cried shortly after. "'At the Sign of the Prancing Pony'. You know, I've always wanted to come here and say that."

"Have you?"

"Apparently."

A hobbit ran out the door all in a fluster, his face flushed red with exertion and panic.

"Hey Nob!" Jimmy called to him. "Before you run off somewhere, can you give us lodgings for the night?"

"You're just in time to grab the last room, what with the dwarves and hobbits and Southrons in the village tonight to celebrate whatever the Festival or whatever is. You're lucky. It's the best apportioned most expensive room... best room in the house, as is said in these parts."

"Don't trouble yourself over that," Julia said brightly. "Let Jimmy worry about that."

It was a comment that did not lean to making Jimmy's truculence any less truculent, as he jingled the last of his worldly wealth in his sadly near empty sporrin.

"Go in and see Barliman Butterbur. He'll give you directions." Nob instructed before speeding off.

"The place sounds like it's rocking," Julia grinned.

"Sounds like a host of menfolk yelling and sculling and swearing and farting," Jimmy opined, though not displeased.

Jimmy parked the rickshaw out the front and they made their way inside just as four mysterious hobbits came wearily up to the Prancng Pony berhind them...



to be continued...  

Chapter the Third continued...


After settling into the lodgings - the bed being huge and sumptuous and the floorboards most comfortable by Scotshobbit standards, 5 Star in fact - the two intrepid adventurers wandered down into the Common Room and found a free table in a dark corner.

"That'd be Bill Ferney's table," said one local worthy. "He won't be happy to have ye sitting there."

Julia told him to quote "fuck off" unquote, and "if he wants this table he can fight for it like we all do in Manchester..."

Shortly after, a beady eyed man of smallish station arrived.

"Bill!" Jimmmy cried in joy. "Why old friend - I heard the name but the penny hasn't dropped 'til now!"

"Jimmy? Well, if it isn't me old mate Jimmy O'Fartin-McCracken! Well, Eru eat my socks - stinky ones at that," and Bill laughed at his little joke.

"And who's that with you?" Jimmy asked after shaking hands warmly with Bill.

"It's a friend of mine - from the south..." and Bill's voice trailed off, like he had something to hide or something.

"He looks queer, but by no meas in a modern accepted sense," averred Julia with a peculiar pursed expression she had when feeling disdainful; her sharp eyes were taking in every detail of Bill's pallid skinned friend with his rather protuberant sharp fangs and yellowish evil eyes. "If I didn't know better I'd swear he's more than half goblin!"

"No, he's actually, strictly speaking, less than half," Bill answered giving Julia a searching look. "Hey, you're a woman! And a dem fine one at that. This is a Tavern yiou know, so you shouldna really be... Oh yes, a certain kind of woman does come here now and then," and Bill grinned suggestively.

"Well, I'm not a certain kind of woman, but I come and go where I please, thanks very much. arsehole,"" Julia told him.

(This was what she called being on her dignity, but Jimmy was now beginning to wonder if Julia might not be quite the prosy woman she oft put out --- not that anyone knows what prosy means).

"This is my table by the way," Bill said, his brow furrowing when he saw that Julia wasn't the kind for putting out in the fashion he'd hoped she might a moment before. "P'raps you might just bugger off then, as they say around these parts..."

"Well I'm here and if you want to fight us for..."

Jimmy hurriedly - and politely - intervened. "Why Ferny aren't we old and boozum friends - and surely we all four can share the table?"

"Alright, Jimmy, but only because you're an old trusted comrade from the old days."

"Trusted?" Julia thought aloud. "Old days?"

"We dug coal," Jimmy explained nostalgically. "Until Bill left the employ suddenly."
 
"The rumours were never proven," Bill said confidently. "And, really, is a hideous violent crime really a crime if no one finds the body? But I thought it best to leave - just in case."

As soon as Bill and his Southern Friend had sat down, an arrogant supercilious respectable voice cried: "Jimmy McCracken! My gosh. What you brings you here old friend?"

Jimmy looked across and who should he see but his old and closest friend, Odo Banks arived at the table, having thrown off his black hood to reveal himself.

"My gawd!" Jimmy exclaimed. "And there's me thinking you still liocked up for rape, pillage and slander!"

"I was for awhile," Odo laughed gaily. "But that was years ago, and I had good lawyers back then and soon got out on a technicality. Been making my fortune in Ozhobbitstan these past ten years - the roo trade is booming! And no pesty authorities to interfere with my vigorous businesses."

Jimmy smiled. "It's so good to see you. I truly missed you, old friend," and his eyes became a bit misty with manifest and sincere joy.  



to be continued...


"

I truly missed you, old friend," and his eyes became a bit misty with manifest and sincere joy. - Bugle

I refuse to recognise those emotions where Odo Banks is concerned!

"That's it," Julia cried shortly after. "'At the Sign of the Prancing Pony'. You know, I've always wanted to come here and say that."

that's true. I have.


''Julia told him to quote "fuck off" unquote, and "if he wants this table he can fight for it like we all do in Manchester..."

uncanny I calls it

(This was what she called being on her dignity, but Jimmy was now beginning to wonder if Julia might not be quite the prosy woman she oft put out --- not that anyone knows what prosy means).

uncannier and uncannier

Chapter the Third continued


The evening went well enough for a time. The Common Room was full of all sorts of common folk who filled themselves on local ales of various kinds, and cider from Archet, and on a peculiarly pungent and strong draught of buckie, which Jimmy and Odo piled into with gusto.

"Like old times," Odo proclaimed afrter the fifth quart.

"Aye! Nock the noo!" Jimmy cried falling into the Scottish vernacular and sculling his eighth quart.

"Oh that self-mockery so endears me to you, old chum," Odo laughed and put his arm around Jimmy's shoulder.

"Oh your fake respectability endears me to you," Jimmy laughed and put his arm around Odo's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Julia was sipping prettily on wine - at least when eyes watched her (and many did!); when they weren't looking, she sipped more full draughts, and her eyes became glassy, but not too much as she was a lady and could sure hold her liquour.

Bill Ferny and his Southern Friend drank ale, but not too heavilly. They were very alert and were watching four hobbits who had apparently come over from The Shire. The main hobbit went by the name Underhill, which news was passed around the place, there being several Undrhills in Bree and the surrounding district and much interest aroused. This Mr Underhill was writing a history of the family the quick moving rumour said.

"He'll get enoughn to write a book in five minutes," Bill Ferny averred. "The Underhills have a long history in these parts. But, dear Southern Friend, I doubt he's really an Underhill."  

Julia saw the long contemplatively reflective look Bill was fixing on the four hobbits who were holding forth at a table a little across the sticky floorboards from them. "He looks a nice hobbit," Julia said. "A bit serious but honest somehow."

"Well, I'm betting he's not really an Underhill," Bill stated again, and darkly. "What that? Did I hear someone say something about old Mad Baggins? Look - that younger hobbit. What's he saying? Blast all this country drunken bumpkin uproar and booziness. I can barely hear anything those hobbits are saying!"

"Why are you so interested anyway?" Julia wanted to know.

"Do you remember that week long buckie contest, ol' chum. You know, at the good ol' Muck and Duck?" Odo laughed.

"It was respectable - after a fashion - right up until the duckie started," Jimmy laughed back.

"I like to know who's in my town?" Bill said mordantly.

"Well, they seem lovely hobbits," Julia said, not liking Bill at all.

"I must say," Odo giggled. "I don't like the cut of your jib."

"What do you mean, Odo? This jib is of best quality."

"But there - between those two buttons - your jib's been cut at an ungainly angle."

"It's at an angle, no dount, but surely not ungainly? No, forsooth, for it's cut at the jaunitiest of angles."

"Rubbish!" Odo shot back, becoming suddenly a trifle annoyed as he slurped his eighth quart.

"Jaunty I say!" Jimmy shot back, becoming suddenly a trifle annoyed as he slurped his tenth quart.

"Why look at that!" Julia exclaimed."That serious and respectable looking hobbit has just hopped up on the table. My gawd. Would you credit it? He's starting to sing! What strange behaviour. I don't know him, of course, but he doesn't seem the kind of hobbit to do something like that!"

"Strange indeed," Bill mused sardonically. "Why would he - and after the name of Baggins has just shot around the room. Bilbo Baggins - that's the name. And what was that tale about all his treasure... And then there's those dark rumours of Black Riders hunting for.. hunting for.. oh yes, they've asking after a Baggins!" Bill's eyes lit up. "Interesting! Very very interesting."

Odo staed confidently: "No, that jib is wrongly cut. I know a proper jib when I see one!"  

"Noo, it's a proper cut jib, perfect jauntiness I say."

"That jib looks expensive; however did you afford it, Jimmy?"

"I got it at a bargain price!"

Julia emitted a little dainty laugh. "Oh isn't that sweet. He's singing that old song about The Man in the Moon, one of my favorites," and Julia began to clap her hands as the nice hobbit warmed to his song and began tio dance on his table.  

"Something fishy about his behaviour, and make no mistake," Bill commented, his gaze now so piercing as to burn right through the singing hobbit.

"Maybe you got it cheap because it was cut wrong?" Odo said as politely as the buckie allowed.

"It is not cut wrong!"

"My goodness! I know that jib. It was made for me by Froggy Pettifogger in Needlehole. I know it because he made it for me twelve years ago. I tossed it in the rubbish bin as poor wear. He had to make me another!"

"Rubbish! I got this fair and square with all it's jaunty glory!"

"You grabbed it from a rubbish bin in Drury Lane, didn't you!"

"You old fart! Take that back!"

Juklia was so much enjoying the song. "Well, everyone is getting into it now. He's quite a lovely singer. Just look at everyone clapping? What a nice fun hobbit. I think he's drunk!"

"Why has he put his hand in his pocket? Suspicious. I expect something weird is about to happen any moment."

"Weird. It's a perfectly respectable song - and funny! Oh he's done so well everyone's insisting he do the song all over again."

"My jib, I say! Thrown out, I say!"

"No it's not!"

"So you bought it, did you?"

"Not exactly... it was a.. a .. a gift...

"A gift straight from the rubbish bin, what."

"You take that back, you arsehole!"

"Oh goodness. He's going to do a somersault!"

"My gawd!"Bill cried in consternation. "Poof! and he's darn disappeared. Now I know things aren't exactly what they seem!"

"I'll punch youir face you stupid Ozhobbit!"

"Not before I punch yours - Scottie!"

"He plain disappeared in mid air, I tell ya, woman!"

"I'm sure there's a sensible explanation. Oh look! He's just crawled out from under the table. He must have jumped, fallen in all this pipeweed smoke, then quickly crawled under that table."

"Not what I saw, Miss. And look! Everyone's been spooked. Look at them leaving. Something plain uncanny happened! And I think I knows some folks who'd very much like to know of it."

"Where are you and your Southern Friend going, Bill?" Julia wanted to know.  

"Somewheres, woman. Somewheres - and you need not know where"," Bill said in an evily knowing kind of way and was gone in about three seconds with his Southern Friend.

Only the four hobbits from The Shire and a stranger in a dark cloak sitting in a dark corner, and Julia, Odo and Jimmy were left in the room now.

Barliman Butterburr spoke briefly to the four hobbits and they left soonafter. The darkly clad stranger left too. Barliman then came over to Julia's table and helped her break up the fistfight between Jimmy and Odo.


to be continued....










 




 
 




"They don't

I think we're getting a little Rosencranz and Guildenstern action here.

My favourite film

Wikipedia: As the protagonists of Tom Stoppard's play and film, they are confused by the events of Hamlet and seem unaware of their role in the larger drama.



And just when you think you're on to something a little bit fresh you find it's already been done. Typical!

Fraid so - but its still a great read

Although admittedly you have set yourself up with some strong competition!

Awh ! the tennis game ! My uber favourite bit ! Delicious !

I love this! Its like being there