Two young wobbits watched Pantsoff's fireworks with great interest. One took a quirky little bite out of the fried pickle he was holding as he glanced about suspiciously. The wobbits ducked into the fireworks tent. A skyrocket exploded overhead, the sparks spelling out "Shop in Wobbiton and save! Paid for by the Wobbiton Chamber of Commerce." The second wobbit, who somehow looked even stupider than the one holding a fried pickle, grabbed a nearby rocket.
"No, no!" said the pickle-wobbit. "Big one! Big one!" The stupid wobbit picked up another rocket so fanciful-looking that it seemed hazardous to launch. "Well? Stick it in the ground!"
"Stick what in the ground?" said the stupid one.
"The skyrocket of course! What did you think I meant?"
"I don't know. Whatever." The stupid wobbit stuck it in the ground. "Got a match?"
"Yeah, your face and my butt!" the first wobbit said, gesturing grandly with his pickle. "Ha! Really though, I don't, do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Do you have a match? Because I don't! Come on, dude!"
"No, I quit smoking. Well, now what do we—Youch!"
Both wobbits suddenly found themselves getting terrifying wedgies. Behind them was a bearded old man. He was twice their height, which gave him excellent leverage as he pulled higher and higher on the waistbands of their undies. Soon they were standing uncomfortably on tip-toe, as he addressed them each.
"Mariellen Buckiebrand" he said to the one with the pickle. "And Parafin Dork. I might have known. Were you really going to set off a skyrocket inside a tent? A tent with clearly posted signs reading 'No Smoking'? A tent filled with fireworks, 190-proof Dwarven Everclear, and Southron-made flammable children's sleepware?"
"We were mostly improvising," said Mariellen. He liked to be called Rock, but everyone called him Mary. "We hadn't thought our plan through this far."
"It was all Mary's idea," said Paraffin. He was often called Puppy, not because of his cute, large eyes, but in recognition of his wisdom, attention-span and self-control.
"Idiots! I should turn you both into Crackerjack. You were about to burn yourselves horribly and ruin my remaining fireworks! But thanks to my intervention there will be plenty of rockets left to chase off any remaining guests at closing time. I just stopped in to get some distilled spirits to liven up Bulbo's punchbowl."
"Here, take a bottle in each hand. My hands are both full," he said as he dragged the wobbits by the back of their underwear out of the tent. "Let's rejoin the party. Bulbo is about to make his speech!"
"Oh no!" cried Mary and Puppy. "Please turn us into Crackerjack, Pantsoff! Candy-coated popcorn, peanuts and a prize! Please!"
Keep coming back for more of Superfriends Of The Ring. To read my loving, insightful, full-length parody of The Hobbit, order a copy of my eBook The Wobbit on Amazon for only $3.00: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004ZR9ELK .
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