Frodo Staggered

by Vison

Frodo staggered to the door like a beast of burden in the far away desert carrying trade goods to the interior of some exotic country ruled by a tattooed handsome man with a gold earring, the subject of a National Geographic special, yet when he got to the door he saw that there was no handle, the door was as bare of handles as a bowling ball is of lumps, smooth as an egg or the head of a really bald man, the kind of bald man who drives the camels in the caravan into the interior of a different strange land ruled by a queen with great jutting bosoms, but as he got closer the door opened with a hiss, a hiss like the snakes that live in the desert where the first caravan was, really poisonous snakes that leap out of sand dunes and fasten themselves on your throat and you die in quite a bit of pain, flailing about in the sand like spaghetti noodles when the water comes back to the boil and he walked out, his arm nearly dragging on the ground like an ape’s, the kind of ape that raised Tarzan which of course were not real apes but only fictional, and he looked around kind of puzzled, his quest was not over it was only beginning, his burden so heavy it made his heart pound and he still had to find it, he stared out into the darkness where there were rows and rows and rows of them, lined up like soldiers in some crummy movie made in Yugoslavia but supposedly in ancient Rome, and he knew, with a sinking of his heart like the water swirling down when you flush the toilet, he knew that he had done it again, he had gone to the supermall and forgot where he parked the darned car.