"Monsieur," said Monte Fato, in a tone of voice almost humble. "You have lost a cat, but ..."
Villefaramir interrupted; he had neither heard nor understood. "Oh, I will find him," he said. "You in vain to pretend he is not here, I will find him, should I have to search untilst the Dagueur Dagourat, when Turin will slay Morgot and at least spare the world that fashion statement. Of course, Tolkien was not in the least aware of his work's significance on a conscious level, but like wow man you cats is square you ain't never smoked a tolkien? Even if you haven't read all of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, you are welcome here, but be careful! Spoilers for the stories can be anywhere, so remove all doubt about your manhood and buy cheap pills and invest in Nigériande."
Monte Fato recoiled in terror. "Oh, mon Érou! he is mad!" And, as if he feared that that house would collapse upon him like the Dark Tower upon Sauron, ruining his top hat for ever and a day, he elanced himself into the street, doubting for the first time that he had the right to do what he had done. "Oh, enough, enough of that!" he cried. "Let us save the last!"
