THE QUEST FOR SAURON'S DIARY
Vii. elves are
poncy gits
VIII. More Boring Adventures
As he got up and put on his "I
Visited the Elves and All I Got Was
This Lousy T-shirt" T-shirt, Bozo
decided that two female characters
weren't too many after all.
The Druid gathered everyone
together. "As you know," he
waffled, "our task is to find
Sauron's Diary. In order to do this,
we must get inside the library, a
perilous place. To get inside the
library, we're going to need fake
IDs. So we need to visit an old
friend of mine and get him to do
the job for us. He's the greatest
counterfeiter since Ahpopone. Then
I need to go talk to some dead
people, because I don't have a
clue what the shades I'm doing."
"What!" roared Bombador. "You
Y$#$#^$#^$* ^%^#^#^#*&$^#
^$#*&$^#*!!!!! Maybe it's time
someone who *really* knew how to lead
led us. Like me, for example?"
Anacin defended his friend the
Druid, "I wike Waffelon. He'th very
thmart and dretheth with almotht
Elvish tathte. Tho shut up, you
thtupid hu-mon!"
Bombador punched Anacin in the
mouth. Things might have gone badly,
but fortunately the Druid turned
Bombador into a frog. "That settles
that," he said with a cruel smile.
"Don't worry," said Bozo. "This
consulting the dead business is just
a formality. Whatever Waffelon
decides to do will turn out to be
right. It's almost boring how
routine all this is."
That night, Bozo did some thinking
in indirect speech. So far,
things were going fairly well. He
had gotten the girl. The style was
repetitious, but at least the
author had a grasp of English
vocabulary, unlike certain fantasy
authors who misused the
word "reticent." It had been
amusing when Fred had tried to write
indecent poetry about Excedrin
earlier that day, only to have the
druid tell him, "This is not porn,
and besides, she's mine!" And
even more amusing when Lovelinda
had told Fred, "You're *kind of*
good-looking but rather boring; so
nah." Fred had always fancied
himself a lady killer ... YRAINW.
Suddenly, Bozo stopped short,
realizing that this use of
indirect speech was becoming
appallingly cliché.
The next day they visited the
Druid's friend Enron. "Well met, after
all these years!" he cried,
clasping Enron's hand.
"Whenever you say that, it means
you want to leech me," said Enron,
shaking Waffelon's hand
vigorously. "What is it this time?"
"We need fake IDs in order to
break into the library and get killed."
"My counterfeiting skills are
crummy," said Enron. "Besides, what's
in it for me?"
"Control of the White House?"
suggested Waffelon.
"I completely refuse to even
remotely contemplate ever doing this. I
WOULD RATHER BE FORCED TO WATCH
JERRY SPRINGER RERUNS IN HELL!"
"F**k you," said the Barf.
"What he said!" agreed Bombador.
"Don't worry; after refusing for
four or five pages, he'll agree to
do it," said Bozo. "They always
do." And so he did.
"Ho ho hmhmghghgh," said Bluff.
Then they went to the Hellhole and
the druid talked to a bunch of
dead people who showed him some
weird visions that he didn't
understand, especially the ones
involving Pokémon. "That was really
scary," said Fred.
"YR," retorted Bozo.
After a while, they arrived at the
Library.
"If you enter the Library,
beware!" thaid Anacin to the Druid.
"Whatever," said the Druid.
"Don't worry," began Bozo; but
Fred and Waffelon gagged him and he
said no more that day.
Then they travelled a bit.
No, they didn't. They slept
for a while before preparing to enter the Library.
chapter ix. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew!