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Beware the Chipmunk  
LMF II   |   LMF III   |   LMF IV
LMF III
(Lights flicker once, twice, and go out completely. The sound of heavy footsteps thudding across the stage echoes. There is a sudden thud and flash of light, the footsteps recede back to the far side of the stage and a door closes. The lights illuminate Elrond who is now standing behind Frodo, who is holding his head and looking scorched.)

Elrond: Welcome back to Let's Make a Fellowship.
Sign: Excellent control little fools.
Elrond: Frodo, are you ready with your last question? Remember, it has to be a good one. Make it count.
Frodo: *giving off a fine, but seeable, smoke* But--but--I--
Elrond: Good job, Frodo. Now, contestants, are you ready.
Volunteers: Let us out already!!!
Elrond: No.
Volunteers: *various sounds of anger and resentment, coupled with mumbled and indistinct plotting*
Elrond: Now, Frodo, we'll let you get back to playing, Lets! Make!
Sign: You know the routine!
Council: A! FELLOWSHIP!!! *clappityclappityclapclapclap*
Sign: I think you're enjoying that too much. Stop. Now.
Council: *stop*
Elrond: *poofs*
Frodo: Er....
Council: *impatient*
Frodo: Er....
Elrond: *again clears throat*
Frodo: Oh! I know! I know! I've got a really good one!
V1: *mmmm...socks...* What is it already?!
Frodo: If you had a chance at my ring, what would you do?
V1: *chomping on a Wal*Mart bonus pack of men's over-calf tube socks* I would ask only for the strength to defend my people...
Frodo: Well THAT'S comforting. *sigh* Num--
V2: *tunnel cell-phone...if the phone was broken and intercepting radio static* Your people?!
V1: *it's a two-fer-one at Wal*Mart* YES! MY PEOPLE!
V2: *broken cell...with a dying battery...and rabid dogs chewing on it* Well, I would only momentarily heed it's call, and then close your hand upon it, so I can go kill stuff and become king!
V1: *maybe some tights too...maybe* That's because you're a twit.
V2: *no, rabid tazmanian devils...undead even* You can't call me a twit! I'm a king!
Frodo: Okay, okay! I get the point. Sheesh. Three, same question.
V3: *through a tube of walpaper that is stuffed with cotton* Feh. I'm too good for some stupid ring.
V4: *in a box of rocks and marbles, shaking violently* Because you're a pansy. I'd break it with an axe...my cousin's axe...*sneaky snigger*
Random audience member: I heard that! You won't get near my axe!!!
Sign: Sit down fool! The rest of you, tie him down!
RAM: No! I shall be heard! Don't touch my axe!!!
Council: *brief spat*
RAM: *tied down and gagged*
Sign: Very good. You deserve a treat.
Council: *happy and hopeful*
Sign: But you don't get one. MAHA!!!
Council: *pout*
Frodo: A-hem! Number four...stuff it. Five, preferably in a one word answer slipped under the door on paper. Now, what would you do with the ring, if you got the chance?
V5: *maybe it's actually sticky tack instead of gum* THAT ring? I'd probably pawn it off for something, like totally prettier. After all, shinies are like completely the most important thing. Like there was this one time at the mall when I--
Elrond: *still hidden in the dark* Excuse me!
V5: *an extra-large-pack of sticky tack* Oh, um, like totally oops. I'll stop now.
Frodo: Thank all that is good in the world...Six?
V6: *still talking into the elbow...but heavily padded* I would yell at you not to tempt me...then I would send you on a deadly mission, while I go for a joy ride to wait for the right moment to become insanely powerful...
Frodo: ...eep?
V6: *the padding's around 18 inches thick* Nonono, it's a good thing.
Frodo: Reeeeeeaaaally...*yawn* I seeeeee....
Elrond: *appears* And that was the last question!
Sign: Cheer and clap, dernit!
Council: *wildly and thankfully applauding and cheering*
RAM: *still tethered, but attempting to cheer*
Sign: Hold it for a second...
Council: *pause*
Elrond: Please hold tight as we have one more commercial break, because when we come back we will hear the descision, and learn who our mystery contestants are!
Sign: Continue pawns.
Council: *continue*
Sign: Of course, I know who they are already...
Council: *ignore the jibe and continue clapping*

(The lights fade out...Frodo is asleep now, the smoke has disapated, but there is a nasty smell of burnt hobbit hair.)

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