#10 Bulbo Finally Leaves Wobbiton

"You've left the party, Pantsoff!" said Bulbo. "The frozen Margaritas must have run out."

"No," said Pantsoff. "There was just no sense in lingering. Too many sloshed wobbits looking for fights as they staggered to their waggons in the parking lot. I'm at a point in my career where I can't be seen duking it out with someone half my height. Did you like my concluding fireworks?"

"I loved watching those rubes run for their lives!" said Bulbo. "But why did you add the popcorn effect to my disappearance? My relatives thought you turned me into Fiddle Faddle!"

"And then they gathered you up and ate you!"

"They like a good snack," said Bulbo. "But it spoils my joke if they suspect you of foul play!"

"Since when is disappearing a joke? I'd call it more of a stage illusion. It's also a great way of drawing attention to the ring you've kept secret since the SmithiBank gig at the Only Mountain. Bulbo, I never know what you're going to do next!"

"I'm going on vacation. I am old, Pantsoff. Not as old as you of course, but old. I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it. Come to think of it, I've known you for decades and you've been an old man the whole time. What's with that?" 

Pantsoff shrugged.

"Like I was saying, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean, like when I joined that yoga class by mistake. I need a change! I want to see mountains again, Pantsoff—mountains. I want to see them through a large window in a ski resort, as I sit in a recliner by a roaring fire, sipping mulled wine. I'll be able to finish the Deluxe Reissue of my book, with a new ending: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days." 

Pantsoff laughed. "That has to be an improvement over all the other endings you tried: After all, tomorrow is another day or Pantsoff, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, or That'll do, pig, that'll do. But nobody will ever read the book, however it ends. The excerpts you posted were horrible!"

"Promo read them, and he thought they were great!"

"He has to," said Pantsoff. "He's your sole heir. He doesn't want you to write him back out of your will."

"Good old Promo. You'll keep an eye on him, won't you, Pantsoff?"

"Yes, I will—two eyes, and a foot on his neck, as often as I can spare them. He's a tweenager, after all. If only I weren't so busy with my research on your ring. Say, where is the ring, anyway? We had a deal, you were to give it up."

"Oh, it's here," said Bulbo. "And Promo will get it with everything else: the condo, the rootball cards and collectibles, the investments with SmithiBank, and of course the silver, gold and all the jools."

"The what?"

"I'm sorry, the 'jewels.' Daddy Shortlegs long suspected I had them, but my stupid gardner has been denying it for years. I'm leaving him and his son to Promo, too. They'll be his problem."

"Yeah, that's great, Bulbo, but where's the ring?

"The what?"

"The ring!" said Pantsoff. "Where is it?"

"It's in an inter-office envelope right there on the mantle, you old idiot! What are you: blind or stupid? I swear, you are the most self-absorbed— oh wait. Here it is in my pocket. No offense, Pantsoff."

"None taken, half-pint. Now reach way up and set it on the mantle."

"Listen, you hulking geezer, where do you get off telling me what to do with my joolery?"

"Easy there, knee-high. Let's not get fussy."

"If I am it is your fault," said Bulbo. "It is mine, I tell you, mine! All mine! Bwa-ha-ha! My precious, I say, precious! Look at me when I talk to you, son! The precious is mine, I say, mine!"

"That voice! Where have I heard that voice?" said Pantsoff. "Now I remember! You sound exactly like the creature you 'won' the ring from, Lady Gol-Gol! And that's not meant as a compliment!"

"Here we go," said Bulbo.

"That's right! Let me tell you for the brazillionth time how potentially dangerous this ring is! Oh, and that 'stretched' feeling you mentioned? Probably caused by the ring! Look at the legal disclaimers for any magic ring, and you'll see things like 'May cause nausea, drymouth, night hysteria and certain sexual side effects. Not for use by pregnant women, pregnant dwarfs, pregnant elves, or pregnant wobbits. Stretched feelings may result.' Give up the ring, Bulbo!"

"Give it up to who? You?"

Pantsoff's eyes flashed above his menacing nose-hairs. The room darkened and he seemed to grow large, which is common when you try to stand up straight in a wobbit's rumpus room. Bulbo gaped at him and scuttled into a corner.

"Eek!" he said.

"Bulbo Bunkins! Do not take me for some conjuror of cheap tricks! I'm a wizard and a project manager, and my mystical Gannt charts all tell me that it is time for you to give up the ring!" The light returned to the room and Pantsoff appeared to shrink as he re-lit the lamps and sat down. Bulbo peeked out from behind the Lay-Z-Boy.

"Are you d-d-done?" he asked.

"Quite," said Pantsoff. "Now give us a hug!"

"Please, Pantsoff. Not in front of the dwarves." Three dwarves entered the room with Bulbo's baggage, parcels and paraphernalia. Bulbo quickly recovered from his fright at Pantsoff's cheap trick. "Well, I'm off. I hope there's a market for your research. Give my best to Promo."

"Guys, give us a minute," Pantsoff said to the dwarves, who discreetly took Bulbo's things outside. Pantsoff continued with Bulbo. 

"And the ring?"

"The what, now?"

"The ring," said Pantsoff, sighing. "It's still in your pocket."

"Ah, yes," said Bulbo. "So it is." He pulled out the red-rope envelope.

"Great. Is the ring in there, and is it the ring we're talking about? Why don't you open that envelope?"

Bulbo glared at him, and started unwinding the string that kept the envelope's flap closed. 

"Take your time," said Pantsoff.

Bulbo finally got the string undone. He opened the envelope, held it out at arm's lenght, and turned it over. A little while later, the ring dropped out to the floor. It landed with a strange "Ka-Boom" sound, and immediately lay flat on the linoleum floor.

"Whew!" said Pantsoff. "I'm glad that thing didn't bounce away or roll. I wasn't about to try to get it out from under your chiffarobe."

"It's a home entertainment center."

"Maybe a credenza?"

"Whatever," said Bulbo, as he opened his aluminum screen door for the last time and joined the dwarves in the Wobbiton darkness. They walked off, as Bulbo sang quitely to himself a reprise of an old song, not bothering to update the lyrics:

The show must go forever on 

so if there’s money to be made 

I’ll once more put my mailshirt on 

and kill a dragon again, someday 

Or else I’ll send a relative 

off to risk his limb and life 

To him my magic ring I’ll give 

and my magic Elf Army Knife 

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