Bad Writing by mousechief
What's in a Name?
It was a stormy night in the Shire. The sky was as black as ink at the
end of a big dark cave on a moonless night, except in this instance the
moon was full and yellow, the cave filled with glowing lanterns, and
the ink pink. Yes, pink. Farmer Violet Mustardbarrell, generally known
to himself and the one other person who could talk to him without
laughing at him as Farmer V, stared out the window gloomily.
He never got over the fact that his parents had chosen a typical hobbit
name for him...and that it was a girl's name! A flower, and a purple
one no less! He waddled over to his chair to complete his sulk. I say
waddled because Farmer V is a hobbit. A hobbit, for those who don't
know but really should know because after all they are reading this, is
a vertically challenged potential heart attack waiting to happen. In
less politically correct terms, they are short and fat. Farmer V was
every inch the hobbit, as he actually managed to be wider than tall.
Having finished his sulk, he turned his thoughts to his big plans for
the next day. The next day was to be the annual Shire fair where all
the hobbits gathered to compete for prizes in numerous vegetable
catagories. Last year Farmer V had made hobbit history by beating
Farmer Maggot in the Mushroom competition, and this year he had an even
more ambisious project. He was going to compete against the sixty year
running winner of the prestegious potato prize, the great Gaffer Gamgee
himself. Farmer V looked lovingly at the pyramid
of potatoes by the door, and especially the one on top, which he
secretly named Spud. Spud was a king among taters. Farmer V was
interrupted from his day dream, or possibly nightmare since it was
after all night not day, by a knock at the door. Farmer V flung it open
to reveal the lovely Bungo Cottonfootbottle, generally known to
herself and Farmer V, her only friend, as Binky.
"Good morning," he inquired dubiously.
"How are you?" she interjected mildly.
"Fine, thanks. You?" he parried.
"They've been making fun of my *sniff* name again" she laughed.
"Let's go to the Green Dragon for a pint and a pity party," he postulated.
And they did. The end.