Pairings: None
Warnings: AU!. Foul language... And more Foul language.
Summary: This is my own..er..take..on that quintessential character: The Mary Sue. *grin*.
Author Note: This is quite the departure from my usual writting style. And I don't know whether to blame that mushroom-eating, plot-bunny that came from God-knows-where, or the mexican food I had last night...mmm... ;)
Additional Disclaimer: Any Movie titles, trademark names and additional recognizable characters, belong to their copyright owners, exclusively!.
Completed: Yes.
Not your cup of tea?. Want to try a different story?. Then click on the link at the bottom of this page.
Want to stick with this one?. Then read on!.
With a pained groan, I squint my eyes open, only to have them go wide as saucers a moment later.
What the hell is going on?!.
OK. Last thing I remember, I was all comfy and cozy in my overstuffed sofa, watching the extended-edition of ' Return of the King' for what was probably the upteenth time when all of the sudden, there is this blinding flash and I find myself getting really sleepy, really fast and now I'm...
Well, I don't know where I am.
All I can see around me is just this vast, white, endless space, which would make some weird sort of sense -If I had been watching ' The Matrix'-
Am I dreaming?. Man, if this is a dream...it sucks!. But somehow, it just does'nt feel like a dream. I mean, I feel totally awake.
And now I'm really starting to get scared.
" Do not be frightened."
Jesus!. I think I just peed myself...
"..Er.. Hello?..." I squeak.
That voice echoes around me again, sounding suspiciously like the same voice you hear in all those tacky comedies. You know, the one that's supposed to sound like...God.
" Long has thou yearned to lay thine eyes upon Arda. Yet to pass through the veil is forbidden to one of your kind. Thus, thy form must be changed, so that thou may be granted thine heart's desire." It says.
Huh?...
I start feeling all emotional and reverent-like and my own voice, in spite of myself, comes out in a tentative little whisper of wonder.
" Are you one of the Valar?."
I hear a loud, all-encompasing laugh that frankly, sounds really...creepy. I bite my lower lip, hard, as a terrible thought begins to form inside my over-stressed noggin'.
" You're not..um.. Morgoth, or..erm.. Sauron... Are you?."
**SNORT!**
Well, that's a relief...
" Thou must choose the manner in which that which encases thy fea, is to be remade."
I can't help it. I let out a nervous giggle, as I get a sudden flashback to one of my favorite ' Loony Toons' cartoons. Its the one where Daffy-Duck is on a blank sheet of canvas and this disembodied pencil keeps on erasing and then re-drawing all this different parts from other characters on him as he sputters about all indignant, and...
" Thou has chosen."
Again, huh?... Wait... What?!...
And just like that, I start to see a shape looming larger and larger in the distance and fuck me, if it does'nt look like the huge bubble-gum-colored, back end of a No.#2 pencil!.
Oh no...no.no.no.no...
As that pink monstrousity gets closer, I start to back up ( Hey, would'nt you?.. ). Only to find that instead of having all that vast, endless space, my back is now plastered against a white wall that feels just like a solid sheet of... Yep, you guessed it...canvas.
Aw, shit. Ya gotta be kiddin' me!.
I start to open my mouth, 'cause let me tell you, I'm about to let loose with a blood-curdling scream, when the rubbery end of that dammed pencil makes contact. I manage to choke out something that sounds like a whistling hiccup, then that blasted eraser starts to move back and forth.
Christ!. I feel like a naked twink on leather-night over at the local gay pub!... I'm getting rubbed on all over!.
Now that's what I call a grope...
I'm just about ready to remember that I'm supposed to be feeling all-violated here, when that pencil turns itself around and starts to draw on me!. So I start to giggle again, because that lead point is tickling like crazy and the more it draws, the more I laugh, until I'm nothing but a snortin' and squealin' little puddle of piglet.
Not at all dignified...
And then, it stops. I feel a strange sort of rippling sensation, then realize that I'm no longer plastered to that canvas wall. First, I get all overwhelmed with relief...
And then, I get well-and-truly pissed off!.
I put my hands on my hips, ready to give whatever is behind that booming voice a piece of my mind, when I register the fact that my fingers are touching on a fabric that feels...awsome...
I look down at myself.
I am wearing the most beautiful dress!. It's velvety and shimmery and it has this gorgeous embroidery everywhere. My tender, feminine side ( don't laugh...I got one ) sighs giddily.
Ooooh...I feel so pretty and so tall and so willowy...
I catch the subtle smell of Lavender, or something, and I realize that it is coming from my hair, which now falls past my hips and is, off course, golden and without a single split-end. My delicate, long-fingered and perfectly manicured hands reach up to oh-so-gracefully trace the contours of my ears, and guess what! They do end in dainty points.
I'm an elf!.
Fuck, yeah!. I want to pump my fist up in the air, I'm so fucking happy. But that would be most...unseemly.
The next thought that pops into my head, is that when I find Legolas, I'm going to grab him by his pointy ears and shove his face right between my... I shudder, horrified by such vulgarity.
Uh.Oh.
Where did my good ol' fashioned, red-blooded sex drive go?!. The only desire I seem to have, is the desire to go sit down someplace that looks as pretty as me, so I can work on my needlepoint!.
Is this some kinda joke?!!.
" Thou art a maiden of the Eldar race. Such base instincts need not disturb the serenity of thy spirit."
Hey, I like being disturbed.
Well, that tears it!. I don't care how beautiful I am now, or how many pretty gowns I can wear, I just fucking can't face an eternity as some simpering, domestically-inclined, needle-wielding, frigid chick!.
I'm just gonna have to tell that serene-spouting deity that he can take his No#2 pencil and stick it up his...
" My Lord. Though I am most humbled and grateful, mayhaps a race tied more closely to the simple joys of life, would better suit my..er..spirit."
Great. I'm frigid, simpering and incapable of being impolite...
I hear an amplified sigh, as if that whatever-it-is, can't wrap its mind around my request. After all, everyone wants to be an elf...right?.
" As you wish." It says.
Here comes that pencil again.
Erase, erase. Grope, grope. Draw, draw.
Suddently, I'm feeling pretty good... Though I'd feel much better with a tankard of ale in my hand and a heaping plate of food in front of me. Not to mention, some serious puffs from Ol' Toby ( Ha! I knew that stuff was more than just tobacco ). Hell! I'm thinking that I could get used to this, right until I happen to look down at my feet. My big, flat, incredibly hairy, feet.
Oh, ewwwww...
" Listen, big fella. Not that I don't appreciate all this, really, but... The Hobbit-thing, it's gotta go. These feet are just too gross!."
" Thou hast issue with the hair upon the feet of the Little-Folk?."
" Yeah."
" The hair, on the feet?."
Yes, already. The big, icky, hairy, Godammed feet!."
Another echoing sigh.
More erasing. More groping. More drawing.
The first thing I do, when I get popped from the canvas wall, is gaze down. I can't help my smile of relief at finding that those gorilla-feet are gone, though I'm not too crazy about the lumberjack boots I'm sporting. I flatten the palm of my hand over my thick beard, so I can get a better look...
My thick...My thick...
" Aaaaaaaargh!."
Holy shit!. I freaked out when my old aunt Edna started sprouting a little menopause-mustache, and now here I am with facial hair that's dangling all the way down to my vagina!.
" Aaaaaaaargh!!."
" What troubles thee now?." The booming voice asks.
It sounds a bit irritated.
Ask me if I give a rat's ass. I have a beard, fer Chrissake!.
" I didnae what yer think yer doin, laddie. But I will hae none of it!. I tell ye truly, I'll be taking me axe tae yer skull, if ye doon fix this!."
What's with the Scottish brogue?... Fuck, I don't care. I just want all this hair off. Now.
And yet another round of erasing and groping. But after that, the huge pencil just stops, as if unsure of what to draw next. So I try to be helpful.
" Look." My disembodied, but back-to-normal voice says. " Why can't you make me into a tall, lusty, really strong female character, with hair just on the top of my head, where hair is supposed to be?. Come on, how hard is that?!."
" As you wish."
It seems to take a long time for that pencil to quit drawing and when it is finally done, I take a deep, steadying breath before looking back down at myself.
That's it. I've just reached the end of my last nerve.
" You bleedin' maggot!." I roar. " Turning me into an Uruk-Hai with double-D-cup tits, is NOT what I had in mind!!."
" Then what is it that thoust truly desires?!." The voice roars back.
I sniffle... I sniffle again... Then, the floodgates open.
" I just wanna go home!!." I bubber and wail, with all the abandon of a six-year-old.
I don't even care anymore, when I see that eraser coming towards me again. There's a blinding flash and before I faint, I have just enough time to hear a distant echo.
" As you wish..."
I sit up with a strangled gasp.
On my TV, Aragorn and the gang are about to meet the Mouth of Sauron. My hands start to run frantically over my head, face and boobs, before I shoot out of the sofa to go stand in front of the large mirror in the foyer.
I'm me again... I'm me!.
I go back to the livingroom and with a shaking hand, click the remote off. Then I go into my kitchen and grab that bottle of Vodka that's been sitting, unopened, in the back of the cubbard. I pour myself about three fingers of the stuff and swallow it all, in one long gulp.
I'll always be a fervent LOTR fan and I'll still write a fanfic story, here and there... But let me tell you honey, it's gonna be a long time before I can bring myself to watch the movies again.
And that's the truth of it...
