Lord of the Rings: Yeah, That's Me

“Who dare go up against the armies of Mordor... and Isengard?” Saruman said in a deep, powerful voice. For ages now, it seemed, Saruman had been gathering an army to destroy the race of men. I stretched my vision to see the wonders that he was speaking of and saw tens of thousands of Orcs, ready and willing to go into battle.

“Well God damn, that is some army,” I said in shock. “So, like, if we don’t fucking conquer the entire Middle Earth, I’m seriously going to throw a bitch fit, because that is a gigantic army Saruman conjured from his little tower. Like, the guy... has the nastiest face I’ve ever seen. Who the hell actually listens to him? I know I wouldn’t, because that is some nasty shit.”

My name is Sauron, the great eye of fire... because some bitch had to go and ‘kill’ me. Damn him, and he just ended up being killed himself by some scrawny Orcs anyways! Men are weak and stupid. And very ugly. They’re like, what, only the most pathetic race ever? All they do is go ‘mine, mine, mine, mine’ and never even think about the good of all of their people. All they want is more land, more power, more money, and more food. Fat greedy bastards. But don’t get me started on elves, the little pansies. All of them skipping around with their hippie hairdos and (false) sense of superiority. Well you know what? Screw them, screw men, and screw the dwarves. In fact, screw everything living. They can all go die.

All I ever did for over, what, 500 years of the second age was sit on top of this tower in the middle of Mordor. Do you know how disgusting this place smells? Orc shit. Everywhere. So, in order to lash out my vengeance upon the world, I recruited the help of mindless Orcs, Saruman, and the angsty men with their dramatic problems. It all came together very nicely, in fact. I even got some Nazgúl to help me out, you know, them being the undead and all. Since at least they can’t die, I figured I had some sort of luck, right? I mean, they don’t sleep, they don’t eat, and they don’t die. How better can it get? I captured that Gollum thing and tortured the shit outta him until he gave us some answers, too. Do you know how annoying that was? The thing wouldn’t squeal for She knows how long. But when he did... oooh, I sent 5 of my Nazgúl out to capture the little Baggins runt from the Shire and bring me back my ring.

Quite honestly, I don’t know what the ring will do for me, since I don’t have any freaking hands, but I’ll find a way. Everyone is scared shitless that if I get the ring, it will be everyone’s doom, so we’ll go with that. To be perfectly frank, I just want it back so they don’t destroy it, thus destroying me. I’ve thought about death a lot, and while this is boring, there’s no way I want to go through it again. Death is a real bitch.

I’m surprised they don’t just get a few eagles and fly over. The only thing, then, that could stop them is the Nazgúl, but seeing as they’re out searching for the ring bearer, well, that just wouldn’t be much help. I’m certainly not saying we should tell them that idea, I’m just saying they’re stupid for not thinking it up. It’s probably to make things more dramatic.

Now I’m not pointing any fingers, but I’m quite sure that Elrond still has a stick up his ass from three thousand years ago. Its times like these that I wish my tower were mobile. I could roll right over to Rivendell and tell him exactly what’s on my mind. It was pretty funny how Elrond was crying for Isildur to throw the ring back into the flames in the Crack of Doom and he was just like ‘no’. Hah. Asshole.

But really, who names a mountain Mount Doom or more importantly, the Crack of Doom? Come on, people, let’s exercise a bit more creativity here. That’s such a bullshit name. And there are so many jokes that aren’t even funny anymore about the Crack. Of Doom. Crack of Doom. It makes me want to facepalm, but let’s not get back into the subject of no hands. I just know that I certainly didn’t name it the Crack of Doom, or even Mount Doom for that matter. No way. I’m not lame. I prefer calling it Orodruin, but apparently that’s just too difficult for anyone but Elves and Dark Lords like myself. But, y’know, at the end of the day, I guess it doesn’t really matter what it’s called. As long as it’s still intact and ringless, I’m happy.

While on the topic of idiots, I’d like to make one quick little comment about Gandalf or Mithrandir or Old Guy or whatever the hell he’s called nowadays. I hate him. So much. If it weren’t for him, no one would have found out Saruman had joined the better side of the morality chain until it was too late. If it weren’t for him, my Nazgúl would have found the Halfling while he was still in the Shire. If it weren’t for him, that Balrog would have stomped the fellowship while they were still in Moria. If it weren’t for him, I would be high ruler of Middle Earth right now. I hope he knows what he’s doing and just how much it’s pissing me off.

Everything pisses me off, though. Seriously, especially those stupid Uruks, Orcs, and really whatever the hell else may dwell over there in Cirith Ungol. All they do is bitch and moan about having to share a friggin’ tower. I swear, besides the mindless yawps from the servants on the ground, it’s them complaining to Shagrat or Gorbag about whatever else one of ‘em did. It’s like I’m surrounded by a bunch of three year olds. Whiny bitches...

I mean, sure, they’re great in battle, but when it comes down to a game of Chess... oh man. If I still had a face, I would be permanently wearing the most horrendously disappointed expression by their lack of elementary intelligence and maturity. I guess I can’t blame them, though, on being stupid. I just need them for their strength and fearlessness. The stupid ones are easier to manipulate and brainwash.

When it comes down to it, though, I suppose I don’t even need to try to brainwash my servants. They’re so scared of me that they’ll do whatever the hell I say anyways. It just depends on how you want to look at it. Some people prefer thinking I’m just a good hypnotist, some people have the spine to admit I’m just plain damn scary.

I don’t see what’s so scary about an eye, though, not gonna lie here. It’s not scary at all, in fact. I’m an eye of flames that floats. Yeah, I’m shaking in my little booties. Although I can agree to my voice being intimidating and frightening. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t worked on it a bit. You can’t blame me, though. There’s only so much a floating lone eyeball can do. Besides ordering my hundreds of thousands of servants about, making sure all goes decently smoothly, and using my searchlight-eye powers, a Dark Lord like me can only do so much to keep my mind occupied. I’ve even gone so far as to ponder whether or not someone would burn if they were shoved into my eye, and if it would hurt me anyways. I concluded that yes, they would reduce to a piece of burnt cram, and no, it wouldn’t hurt. I’m too good for pain. Although getting my fingers chopped off didn’t exactly tickle either, which leads back to Isildur being an asshole.

What makes it even better is his stupid heir, Aragorn. Not only is he undeniably hunky and delicious, but he’s also a gigantic pain in my nonexistent, royal ass. Kills all of my servants, helps the Halfling, kills more of my servants, and repeat until desired. And he’s never satisfied; the desire meter is just stuck on floor zero for that bastard. What makes it worse is that he’s so dramatic, seriously. Dude, just become king for my sake, this scene is getting old. ‘OMG you are the king!’ ‘No, no, I’m not, I swear! Even if I am Isildur’s heir!’ Remember that thing I was talking about with the facepalming? That also makes me want to do it. We get it, you’re unsure about being King of Gondor. Good Lord.

The only thing worse than his constant talks about how he’s Isildur’s heir is that other old guy that’s keeping the cushion warm for him. Steward he is, but he thinks he owns the place. Remember what I was talking about with the part about the greedy, fat men? Well he’s your numero uno example. But he doesn’t stop with crying over how he owns the throne, no way. He’s gotta go and be a total asshole to his younger son. Sure, he’s not as muscular or intimidating as Boromir, but give the kid a break, will ya?

I like to think of Faramir has a less gorgeous but still quite gorgeous clone of Aragorn; strong, both in mind and body, decently intelligent, loyal... He’s so devoted to his father and the brotherly love that he and Boromir shared was adorable. Until Boromir died, anyway. I guess death kind of complicates things like that. Only the best survive after death, except Gandalf, but I won’t get into that again.

Boromir really is the son of Denethor, though: greedy. Let’s see, just what led up to his death? Oh yeah, trying to take my ring from The Runt. Although I guess he did try to save those other two short ones from the Uruk-hai... No matter, still died. After how many arrows, though? He may have been a greedy fellow but he had good strength.

But I guess none of this really matters, all of these morons and people I loathe; I’m going to capture that Runt and get my ring back and stomp those bitches when – surprise! – I send out my attack on Gondor. Heheheh... Just you wait, ungrateful shits.