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Both mentally and physically. The little hobbit’s life has been a
spiraling descent into the dark abyss of addiction ever since his cousin
Pimpin of Hobury started selling him pipe-weed and shrooms and got him
hooked on the insidious drugs. He’s started having grand delusions about
being a ‘ring-bearer’ and claims that black riders and some guy named
Gollum are after him. His uncle Bilbo put him into a rehab program, but
to no avail. Scott stops in his tracks as he enters and drops the axe. “Hey look,” he says. “It’s one of those little people.” Frodo fingers his non-existent ring and backs away into a corner. “It’s my. Burden to bear!” he proclaims in his squeaky little voice. “Where’s my Sam!?” (He’s developed an imaginary friend as well).Scott bends down on one knee and pinches the Frodo’s chubby cheeks “Aint he cute Reaibn!?” Reaibn shrugs. “I used to live in this crappy apartment over on Rundgren street, the place was absolutely infested with hobbits. They multiply like roaches and eat up all the food in your pantries. Once they even got into my stash and smoked up a whole pound of weed. Take my advice...” Reaibn pulls out a spray can of Hobbit- B-Gone. “Spray the little pest with this.”Frodo goes into withdrawals and starts foaming at the mouth. “I need a fix!” he screams.
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1/13/2005 8:01:41 AM
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