Hobbits Across America

Sam Gamgee looked out the window of his fabulous Boulder one-bedroom, which he shared with his boyfriend Frodo. Frodo had a penchant for doing stupid things, and each time he did one he was required to put one dollar in the "Stupid Jar," which was an empty Clausen dill spears jar on which Sam had scrawled "Stupid Jar" with a black Sharpie. (Frodo had drawn little hearts and butterflies on the jar with his magenta Sharpie. Frodo owned the whole rainbow set of Sharpies.)

To Sam's relief, Frodo hadn't done anything even remotely stupid for a few weeks now. Sure, there was the garbage disposal/fingers incident of before Christmas, but now it was early May and just like the doctor had promised, Sam's fingers were starting to grow back. In a few months, Sam would be able to get off of disability and go back to his mediocre-paying job as a gardener. In the meantime, Frodo had gone out grocery shopping while Sam stayed at home to do his physical therapy. Sam was really hoping Frodo would bring back some delicious plain yogurt and sweet, sweet granola.

Sam heard the key turn in the lock. "Sam!" called a sugary-sweet voice. "Guess what happened while I was out!" The door slammed.

"You went grocery shopping like you were supposed to?" Sam ventured.

"No," said Frodo, slipping into the living room and stooping over to pet his kitten, Mister Puss. "Is Mister Puss being a good boy today?"

"Meow," Mister Puss confirmed.

"Good, good," Frodo agreed. "Everything's just going splendidly. I mean, you'll never guess what happened while I was out!""

"Yeah," Sam chimed in. "What happened while you were out already?"

"Well, I wanted it to be a surprise..." Frodo hemmed.

"Frodo, your surprises are always terrible," Sam reminded. "Remember that time you got a sex change?" Frodo shook his head. "And then you had to get it reversed?"

"They invented that procedure for me!"

"Just tell me what you did."

"I bought a house!" Frodo blurted out.

"You what?" Sam's face turned red. "With what money?"

"You know that million dollars I inherited from my uncle?"

"Bilbo?" Frodo nodded. "Frodo, he's not dead. We had lunch with him last Tuesday!"

"Inherited from, was given by, embezzled with, whatever. The point is, this place is on the market now, Sam. We're having a showing in an hour. And get packed. We're moving on Sunday."

"What? Are you crazy? I like this apartment. We scrimped and saved for months to afford it and now you've suddenly bought a house?"

"Well, yes. But there is also something else I haven't told you."

"What, is it on Mars or something?" Sam said sarcastically. He had to work very hard to be sarcastic. It didn't come to him naturally like it did to most other people.

"Not quite. It's in Nakedwood Creek."

"So?"

"Well, it's a gated community."

"Yeah, sounds nice."

"A nudist gated community."

"WHAT!?"

"Look, the idea just appealed to me for some reason. We never have to wear clothes again!"

"But, Frodo, I like wearing clothes. I'm very self conscious about my body and I don't want to show it to all of the neighbors."

"Oh, don't be silly, you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, that's very sweet, Frodo."

"And now you'll maybe have some motivation to lose that weight I've been nagging you about."

"Oh! So that is what this all about! You bought a whole house in a nudist colony so that I would lose 15 pounds?"

"Sam, you need to lose a lot more than 15 pounds. Now let's get packing. We haven't much time."

"Yeah, whatever." Sam was pissed, but he had learned a long time ago that getting pissed at Frodo really didn't accomplish much. Either he was totally oblivious or just didn't care about how Sam felt.

~

"Well!" Frodo chimed six weeks later. "Here we are all moved into our new home in scenic Nakedwood Creek!" As you might have assumed, Frodo and Sam were in their large luxurious living room sans clothing or even underthings. "Don't you just feel so free and uninhibited?"

"No," Sam grumped from the couch where he was drowning his sorrows in a Coors Light. "I hate this house and I'm getting mighty sick of you, truth be told." While Sam was grumbling the doorbell rang.

"Sam, shush!" Frodo was rushing toward the door, his girlish little bottom bouncing behind him. "Do we want the neighbors to know about our relationship problems?" Sam shrugged. He didn't care.

Frodo flung the door open. "Hello!" he crowed. "Welcome to the Baggins-Gamgee homestead!" The woman on the other side of the threshold smiled and waved like an idiot. She had the most tomato-like breasts Frodo had ever seen, and barely any areolas at all, (If you must know, one of the main reasons Frodo had wanted to move to Nakedwood was to assess the disrobed conditions of other people's persons.)

"Hiya!" percolated the cheery brunette. "I'm Celebrian. I'm the president of the welcome committee, and I've come to welcome you to Nakedwood Creek!"

"We're so delighted to be here! I'm Frodo! Would you like to meet Sam!" There was something intoxicating about the air in Nakedwood, as if one could only manage to speak in exclamation points.

"Hi." Sam said, shuffling over, covering his genitals with his hands. Celebrian held out a hand to shake his. Sam begrudgingly shook her hand and then quickly recovered his naughty area.

"New to nudism are we?" Celebrian asked. "Well, you'll get used to it. You'll have to."

"I don't think I ever will," Sam grumbled.

"Well," Celebrian scolded, "Don't even think of wearing any clothing while you are within Nakedwood Creek. It's against the rules." She giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl as she said this."

"Rules?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yes. My husband, Elrond, is in charge of the rules committee. Here is the book of rules." Celebrian handed Sam a velubound volume at least two inches thick. On the neon orange cover Sam spied the words "Nakedwood Creek: The Rules We Live By."

"Oh, don't worry about us." Frodo chimed in.

"Well, this rules pamphlet will tell you everything you need to know to live here harmoniously with your neighbors. You live right next to another homosexual couple, Merry and Pippin. What sweethearts. We're going to have to rename this cul de sac Gay Ct." Celebrian was laughing at her clever joke. Sam leered at her. Frodo stood arms akimbo looking pissed.

"Anyway," Frodo shot. "It was nice of you to stop by. We have to have some raunchy homosexual sex now, so goodbye." He pushed her out the door and slammed it. "Ooh, straight people make me so angry!"

"Jerks like her make me so angry," Sam said.

"Ugh, Gay Ct. What an awful name for a street. She is so unfunny."

"I know, there are so many more clever ways she could have renamed Aspen Circle."

"Like what?" Frodo asked, his arms crossed. "Name me some."

"I don't know," Sam shrugged, brushing some cat hair off his naked ass. "What do I look like, the head of the street naming committee?" Sam chuckled to himself because he found this remark of his to be quite funny.

"Maybe you should join that committee," Frodo said sternly, flipping through the rule book.

"What? Surely such a thing doesn't exist."

"I'm afraid so," said Frodo. "Oh, this is going to be such fun! I just adore committees!"

"Frodo, what committees are you involved in outside of this subdevelopment?"

"Well," Frodo drawled. "There's that little thing I do on Tuesday nights."

"AA isn't a committee, Frodo."

"I'm very involved, aren't I?"

"Yeah, because the court let you off on a plea bargain."

"That stop sign was rigged!" Frodo snapped.

"Yeah, whatever. You wanna split a bottle of Pinot Grigio?"

"Yeah, I'll get it," Frodo said as he flounced off toward the kitchen, penis waving in the breeze. Well, not so much breeze as central air. When he returned with the bottle and two slender glasses he almost dropped them. "Sam!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Frodo?"

"You can't wear socks! We'll get fined."

Sam looked down at his Moosejaw-brand wool socks. "My feet were cold."

Frodo quickly placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table and got on the floor. He started tugging at Sam's socks. "You've gotta take these off, before anyone sees."

"Stop," Sam giggled. "You're tickling me. Who's going to see?"

"They have ways, Sam. There!" he said, finally removing a sock from Sam's uncooperative foot.

"Frodo, my feet are cold. Quit it."

"No! Ah!" Frodo pulled off the second sock. He took them over to the fireplace and threw them in. Unfortunately it did not have the desired effect because the fireplace wasn't even lit. It didn't even get the socks all sooty because no one had yet lit a fire in their brand new fireplace in their brand new living room.

"What did you do that for?"

"No clothes, Sam. I'm very serious about this."

"But, Frodo, what about my ice-cold feet?"

"We'll just have to turn up the heat."

"Fine, I'm turning up the thermostat." Sam walked over to the thermostat. Frodo watched his testicles swinging back and forth. They were mesmerizing.

"Wait! No! Don't touch that thermostat!"

"Why not? Is that against the rules too?"

"Actually, yes. This is an ecological nudist gated community after all; if we turn the heat over 69 we get fined."

"Sixty-nine, eh?"

"Oh, don't get all Canadian on me," Frodo scolded.

"Well, I'm freezing, what are we going to do?"

"I can think of a few ways to warm you up..." Frodo said suggestively.

While Frodo and Sam were doing it, there came another knock on the door. "Blast!" Frodo cried, removing his head from the crook of Sam's neck. "There are not nearly enough minutes in the day!" Frodo got up to go answer the door. Sam crawled underneath a blanket.

"Hiiiiii!" said the curly-haired little bobbins standing on the other side of the door. He was holding a basket of muffins. "I'm your neighbor, Pippin!"

"Hi!" Frodo said. "OMG! Celebrian said you were gay!"

"I totally am!"

"Thanks for the muffins!"

"Oh you bet!" Pippin's tanned and oiled little booty slipped in between Frodo and the doorframe and made its way to the kitchen, where Pippin set the muffins down on the countertop. "Is that your partner shivering under a blanket in the living room?"

"Yeah," Frodo confirmed. "Except we're not partners yet. Only boyfriends. The bastard won't commit. Isn't he sexy?"

"No," said Pippin honestly. "He's kind of fat. But I'm thinking of getting a sex change. Would sculpted eyebrows look good with this hairdo?"

Frodo shrugged. "You know how it is with sculpted eyebrows."

"Too true, too true," Pippin sighed. He pulled out an envelope from ... well, he wasn't wearing any clothing. "This was stuck to your front door."

"What is it?" Frodo squealed, tearing the envelope open wantonly, little bits of paper flying every which way.

"It's probably another fine. Nakedwood and the rules committee are very careful about certain little details." Pippin looked up at Frodo, who was reading the letter and scowling. "What's the news, neighbor?"

"Oh god!" Frodo yipped, "It is a fine. Apparently our moving truck left here at 5:02 PM and they were supposed to be out of here before 5. That's a $120 fine!"

"That seems a little steep." Sam offered from below his blanket.

"Well, that's the price of living here at the ultra-fab Nakedwood Creek," Pippin said. "I know it's a big pain in the ass, but you'll get used to it in no time. Me and my partner, Merry, hardly ever get fined anymore.

"Oh, this just makes me so mad!" Frodo was turning beet-red. "Excuse me, Pippin, when I'm mad I need to fuck, and right now, I'm mad."

"Oh," Pippin politely answered. "Don't mind me. I'm gone. Enjoy the muffins!" Pippin skipped out the front door, his gay little bottom swishing back and forth seductively.

"Sam, do me. Do me, now!" Frodo said as huskily as he could muster.

"Yes, sir!" Sam saluted ironically.

~

After another marathon sex session Sam instinctively went to put his socks on.

"Sam! No!" Frodo shouted. "What have I told you about wearing socks?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot." Sam apologized.

"I spent almost everything I had to move here. I can't afford to pay any more fines."

"Then why did you move us to a gated community? They're infamous for their fines."

"Well, maybe I should've done a little more research. It was just so appealing, I don't know why."

"This is why I tell you to consult me about major things like buying a house before you jump on the first idea you have."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Let's have make-up sex."

"Okay," Sam agreed.

~

The next morning, Sam was enjoying one of Pippin's brambleberry crunch muffins on the back patio of the new house. He loved watching the sunrise, and eating, and this morning he was getting to experience both of life's premium joys all in one swift move. Frodo, who was perpetually a late riser, bumbled out of the kitchen rubbing his eyes. "Hola," he said sleepily. "What time is it?"

"About 7:19 and 29 seconds."

"Uh," Frodo grunted. "And what are you doing up so early?"

"Watching the sunrise?" Sam took this opportunity to shove a hearty chunk of muffin into his flapping maw.

"Oh my god!" Frodo was nearly having a heart attack. "Are you eating on the patio?"

"Duh," Sam rumbled through a particularly chunky hunk of muffin. (Pippin was not a very good cook.) He swallowed (something he usually never did -- burn!) and said, "I'm just enjoying the beautiful morning and this mediocre muffin your friend brought over."

"Ugh, he's not my friend. Well, anyway, last night after you fell asleep immediately after we made love, I stayed up until 11:30 reading the rule book."

"Did you get a kick out of it?"

"No! In fact, I now know that you are breaking about 28 separate rules as we speak!"

"You're more yelling than speaking. Name one."

"No socks and shoes!" Frodo crowed.

"Surely that can't be against the rules. I'm outside! Who walks around barefoot out of doors?"

"Well, as of right this second, not Sam Gamgee. Furthermore, you're getting crumbs all over the patio."

"I'm allowed to eat on my own patio!"

"Not if you don't clean up after yourself. Attracting a raccoon is a $40 fine. Bear removal is $360!"

"Fine, I'll clean up after myself," Sam insisted.

"Look, I'm going to go get the dustbuster." Frodo said, as he returned to the house.

Sam stretched out, crumbling the rest of the muffin all over the patio just to spite Frodo. Frodo scampered out and vacuumed up the crumbs.

Sam went to the front door to retrieve The New York Times, which he was ready to read. Attached to The New York Times' blue bag was another envelope. Inside was a note:

"$25 Fine for not retrieving newspaper fast enough," it read. It was signed "Elrond Halfelven, Rules Committee."

"Jesus Christ!" Frodo shouted from behind him, where he had snuck. "Not another fine!"

"Look, this is getting a little ridiculous," Sam said.

"What did you do this time?"

"Not bring in my newspaper fast enough," Sam replied.

"How much?"

"$25. Look I'm going to go over and have a talk with this Elrond character. If we want to live in peace in this awful community some sort of accord will have to be reached."

"Oh, Sam, you're just like Bill Clinton, making accords everywhere."

"Yeah."

"Hey, can we role-play before you go? You be Bill Clinton and I'll be a naughty intern."

"Okay, but let's make it quick. I really want to give Elrond a piece of my mind."

~

Sam trudged up to the front door of the Halfelven household. Sam didn't really know where it was, so he wandered around the cul-de-sacs of Pinecrest Commons for a few hours. Then he found his way to the guardhouse and got a map. Elrond and his blushing bride, Celebrian, lived at 3940 Prudent Investiture Drive. However, despite being called a "drive," Prudent Investiture was also a cul-de-sac.

Making one last check to ensure that his gentials looked their freshest, Sam pounded on the door. A fizzy lady with tomato-like breasts opened the door. "Hello!" The lady cocked her head confusedly. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You're that homosexual! One of them, anyway."

"My name is Sam Gamgee," said Sam. "I'm here to discuss—"

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Celebrian. Welcome to our home! Would you like to come in for some Tang and Roofies? I mean, Jell-o parfaits?"

"Uh," said Sam uneasily. He loved food. "Sure." Sam warily stepped over the threshold and into the foyer, which looked like it was straight out of the Horchow catalog.

"Please, have a seat in the parlor." Celebrian indicated a large room with many prominent windows to the left of the foyer. Sam carefully sat down on an overstuffed couch in a sunshine-y yellow fabric, trimmed in cherrywood. "This couldn't be a better time for me, because 3 p.m. is right after I finish my ride on the exercycle, and right before I begin a long, luxuriant sauna."

"Honestly, I'm here to speak with your husband."

"Rondy?" Sam nodded. "Oh, all right. I'll go get him. Wait here. Don't touch anything." Celebrian popped up and bounced out of the room. Sam thought to himself that she seemed a lot like Frodo, or at least Frodo when he had been heavily drinking.

Sam waited a while. The moaning sounds coming from the next room told him that it would be a while more. What was with these nudists? He took it upon himself to rub his butt all over as much furniture as he could while he waited.

Finally Elrond, or Rondy as he apparently liked to be called, came out. His manhood was quite impressive, which Sam could not help but noting. "Yes?" Elrond said, looking a little bit irritated.

"Well, I just wanted to come and tell you that I don't appreciate all of these fines. I mean, some of them are just creepy. Like, why does a condom count as clothes? And how do you know if I used a condom?"

"There, you just admitted it. There's no way you're getting out of that fine now."

"Wait, what? This is ridiculous. I should be allowed to put on whatever I want. You telling me that I can't wear anything is as oppressive as the rest of the world telling you you should wear clothes!"

"Look, Pam, or Sam, or whatever you call yourself these days. I don't know what nudist planned communities you lived in before you moved here, but things here in Nakedwood Creek are a little bit different. We like rules here. Yes, we may be nudists, but that doesn't mean that we're not obsessive-compulsive."

"Oh, you are so irritating!" Sam shouted, spittle flying into the air.

"Look, at least we allow your kind here."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked, clearly becoming irritated.

"You know, fat people. Frankly, it's just unpleasant to look at."

"How dare you!"

~

Frodo was in the kitchen doing what he did best: making alcoholic drinks and then consuming him. He heard the door slam, and he would have heard the sound of loafers slamming into the wood floors if shoes were allowed at Nakedwood Creek, but they weren't so he didn't.

"No good rotten-ass Elrond," someone was mumbling. "Thinks I'm too fat for his elite perfect neighborhood. I'll show him who's gay, me, that's who. Also angry. Kill everyone, revenge soon..."

"Sweetie?" Frodo asked, peeking his head out of the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

"No," Sam sneered, putting his big fat bottom on the good couch. "Everything is not okay."

"Well, did you talk to Elrond?" Sam nodded. "What did he say? Will he waive our improper-mattress-disposal fee?"

"No," Sam said again. "But it's cool, I told him off."

"Oh, no," Frodo groaned. "Listen, big guy, I really like it here. So don't go fucking it up!"

"Please, Frodo, a little trust in my ability to judge which situations are screamable would be nice."

"Remember that time you flashed the man at the cock fight because he called you 'chiquita'? I think he was a Mexican day laborer. Thank God we moved here and got away from all of them! Constantly leering at me ... with their eyes..." Frodo trailed off. Sam cleared his throat.

"Frodo, that was you."

"Well, my point still stands. Be nice to these people! You don't want to get a rudeness fine."

"When I'm head of the rules committee, there won't be any rudeness fine!"

"Sam!" Frodo gasped. "What are you suggesting?"

"Fro, I'm sick of being the little guy. I want to be the big guy."

"You're already the big guy around here, Sam."

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Was that an innuendo, or a fat joke?"

"Eh." Frodo shrugged. "Anyway, please, just back off."

"No! I will not back off from this!"

"Just think about it overnight!" Frodo pleaded, missing his bloody mary.

"Too late," Sam harbinged. "I already registered down at the clubhouse."

"Oh no," Frodo groaned.

"Oh yes!"

Fortunately for Sam, and unfortunately for Frodo, the elections for head of the rules committee were only a few weeks away. Sam had just made the deadline when he angrily stormed into the clubhouse demanding to be placed on the ballot. Now came the hard part: campaigning. Frodo and Sam weren't exactly the most popular couple in Nakedwood Creek. First of all, they were a gay couple, which the surprisingly conservative populous of the premiere nudist community in Colorado had trouble looking past. Secondly, Sam's frequent run-ins with the rules committee didn't really gain him any popularity points. Frodo did his best to campaign for Sam. He was very upset when he realized he couldn't campaign in his new Chanel suit.

"Why did you even buy that thing?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Look, if I'm going to be the president's wife, I have to look the part."

"But you're the one who moved us to this nudist colony!"

"Community, Sam. We're a community."

"Well, you can't wear it. If we get any more fines we're going to have to start using high-efficiency lightbulbs instead of these incandescents that you love so much."

"Heavens no! Our financial situation isn't that dire is it?"

"I'm afraid so, Frodo. I really need to win this thing so that we don't have to pay any more fines. We were stretched too thin when you bought this place, and you buying fancy women’s suits that you can't even wear isn't helping things."

"Do you want me to try and get some more money from dear Uncle Bilbo?"

"No, not yet. Just don't wear that suit."

"Can I at least wear the matching pillbox hat?"

"I don't know, look it up in the rules." Sam passed over the four volume set labeled "The Rules We Live By." He had been trying to bone up on the rules to impress his neighbors and avoid breaking them.

Frodo looked in the index under pillbox and not finding anything looked under hats. Sure enough they were allowed. Frodo placed the pink hat on his head, put on some giant sunglasses and announced, "Okay, Sam. Let's hit the campaign trail!

~

The week before election day, the latest issue of the Nakedwood Creek community newsletter, The Bare Essentials, hit newsstands — that is, it was carefully placed, one per household, in each mailbox. The morning the weekly newsletter arrived was usually no different than any other for Frodo and Sam. Today, however, there was an enormous headline that read: ELROND IMPROPERLY SKIMS POOL — MISSES A LEAF.

"Gosh," said Sam, absent-mindedly rubbing his scrotum, something he did all the time now that he was constantly in the buff. "Do you think this might help my campaign?" Frodo, who was busily licking strawberry juice off of his fingers, shrugged. That afternoon, a woman came up to Sam in the rec center and told him he had her vote.

"I couldn't vote for that unbearable Elrond," she explained. "I don't know if I want a man who can't take care of his pool taking care of my safety via the rules committee." Sam found this a little ridiculous, but never one to laugh in the face of good luck, he thanked his supporter graciously and took his leave. (Sam also didn't comment on the fact that he found pool cleaning to be far from an issue of personal safety, as indeed many of Nakedwood Creek's rules were.)

~

The next morning, Sam ran into a friend from pilates class — Frodo's pilates class, that is — who told him that he had her vote, too. "That awful blind item!" she said. "It must be true. It would be nearly slanderous to publish such a thing otherwise, even without a name properly attached."

Sam stormed back into the house and picked up yesterday morning's newsletter. He turned to page nine — the gossip column. "Ears are ringing," went the item, "that a certain soon-to-be-former head of the rules committee beats his wife, has sex with dogs, rapes babies, eats veal, and is a registered democrat." Sam winced at the lack of AP style and bad capitalization, but marched in to where Frodo was lazing on the couch, watching Oprah.

"Frodo?" he asked.

"Yeeeeeeees, my love?" Frodo asked, rolling over carefully so as not to crush his balls under a cushion or thigh.

"Do you know anything about this?" Sam dropped the newsletter into Frodo's exposed lap.

"Ohhhhhh," Frodo said with heaving recognition. "Oh, ohhhh, that."

"Yes, that. Do you have something to do with that?"

"Well, I must tell you, my dearest love, I neither wrote not championed those sinful pieces." Sam stood stony-faced, arms crossed, foot tapping the awful rug and making no noise at all, but Frodo could still spot Sam's leg fat undulating with the vibratory slap-slap of the foot on the floor. "But Pippin is the editor of the newsletter," Frodo added quickly. "So, read any good books lately?"

"Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "This isn't okay! These are lies!"

"But they're lies that will get you elected, Sam," Frodo explained, secretly wishing he were wearing his pillbox hat. "And you'll do a better job than that meanie. So in the end, aren't they really the truth?"

"No!"

"Oh. Well, you can either go around telling everyone that someone's been printing pro-Gamgee lies, or you can sit back and enjoy the ride. What do you say, Sam?"

"Well, I guess it's too late to come clean without doing significant damage to my campaign. But I don't want anymore of these lies, Frodo. You tell your friend Pippin that I don't need his help. I can win this campaign on the merits of my platform!"

"What is your platform?" Frodo asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't really have one other than I'm less uptight than Elrond."

"Don't tell anyone that. Everybody thinks you're even more uptight than that asshole and that's why they're voting for you."

"No, they're voting for me because you've horribly slandered poor Elrond."

"Poor Elrond? He called you fat! That is unforgivable."

"Frodo, you call me fat all the time."

"That's different. When I do it's cute."

"No it's not. It really hurts my feelings when you call me fat."

"We're not talking about this anymore." Frodo stormed off with the newsletter to do the crossword.

~

As the election neared things became very tense in the Baggins-Gamgee household. Sam was obsessively tending to things around the house lest some minor rule be broken. Frodo busied himself by shopping for pillbox hats online, much to Sam's annoyance.

Merry and Pippin were over one night for a dinner party Frodo was having catered by Panera Bread. He told them he was too busy with campaign business to cook a real meal, but the truth was he was a lousy cook and the extent of his cooking skills was ramen noodles and toast. Sam would normally have cooked, but he was afraid to turn on the exhaust fan in case someone called in a noise complaint. Things were very tense at dinner, especially because Pippin had just gotten his nipples pierced and would not shut up about it.

"It was so painful!" Pippin cooed, sashaying his manly bosoms to-and-fro at the dinner table.

"And there was so much blood," Merry added, eyes glazing over as he stared at Sam lustfully over Frodo's delicious lemon Jell-o and crab chiffon salad.

"Yes," Pippin echoed. "So, so much." Pippin shoveled a heaping forkful of salad into his mouth. "So much." He said again.

"Uh huh," said Sam, duly unimpressed. He didn't like Pippin very much, and he was fairly disconcerted by Merry's untoward advances, which were frequent and clumsy. One of them even violated a community rule, no flirting within 15 feet of children and 75 feet of the boathouse. Of course, this had been before Sam was in the running for any important community positions. He and Merry had even split the fine, $87.50 each.

"I'm so nervous about this election tomorrow," Frodo said drearily, shooting Merry a dirty look. "We need to get to the polling place extra early so that we can have a picture of my voting appear in the special-addition Bare Essentials," which Nakedwood Creek residents uniformly called "the B-Ess."

"Where's the polling place?" Pippin asked, absent-mindedly playing with his infected nipple piercing.

"The clubhouse lobby," Merry answered, giving Sam a sly tilted-head nod. Sam shuddered in disgust. Merry felt very authoritative on this issue, because he was an underling in the election administration office, which was located in the spare room over committee chairman Tom Bombadil's garage. "The polls open at 6:30 on the dot. We'll have bagels and orange juice for the first 20 voters!"

"Free bagels?" Sam asked, perking up. Truth be told, his and Frodo's monetary hardships were beginning to creep up on him. Just today he'd had to pay for his new toaster (Frodo had put eggs in it again) on layaway. Layaway! He felt so ashamed.

~

Meanwhile, on the other side of Nakedwood Creek Elrond was busying himself looking out his bathroom window with his binoculars, trying to find wrong-doers. His eyes passed over Kathy Murgensen cutting her grass 3.5 inches rather than the preferred three inches, and good old Boromir walking from the pool to his house without donning the proper cover-up. None of this interested him. His gaze was directed at the Baggins-Gamgee residence, where he was greeted by the site of their gardener Jose's perky bottom as he bent over to tend to the azaleas. "There's got to be something they're doing wrong I can get them for," he grumbled to himself.

Unfortunately, there wasn't. Everything about the house was absolutely perfect. Elrond couldn't believe that anyone could be as anal about the rules as he was. He grunted in dissaproval. Celebrian got up off of her knees. "Am I doing it wrong or something?"

"No, it's not you, dear. It's those damn Bamgee-Gamginses."

"That's not their name," Celebrian huffed.

"Just get back down there."

~

Election day was upon Nakedwood Creek. The air was filled with a tension that was almost indescribable. "Oh, Sam!" Frodo imparted, "I just know you're going to win. That smear campaign we launched has been so uber-successful, it can't fail."

"Frodo, it's very important that we not count our hitchens before they catch," Sam said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Fro. I get dyslexic when I'm nervous."

"That's kind of cute, I guess. But how are you going to give that speech in the rec center today if you mess up all the words?"

"That's a know question, Dorfo. I don't good what I'm going to do."

"Well, you can do what I did to win the Nakedwood Creek talent show and secretly lip sync," offered Frodo.

"Shhh! If anyfind ones you did that I'll lose the campaign."

"Oh, no one will ever know. I am a really good lip syncer. I could teach you if I want."

"No, Frodo. They're just going to haccept to ave me the way I am."

"You sound like a retard."

"I thought you said it was cute me kind of."

"Well, I lied. You might as well cancel the speech."

"But the closelection so lect, I mean, so close," Sam managed to blurt out.

"You can barely talk!"

~

That afternoon, practically all of Nakedwood Creek was huddled in the rec center. The president of the entire community, Galadriel, was at the podium. She wasn't just the president of the community — she was also Celebrian's mother and, therefore, Elrond's mother-in-law.

"Good afternoon, Nakedwood Creekers!" she announced cheerily. She was an ethereal-looking woman of about 59. "This has been a very tense election, hasn't it? I just want to give both of our candidates a round of applause." When she clapped harmoniously, her aged bosoms jiggled slightly in a sad rhythm. "Okay, now it's time to get down to business. All the votes have been tabulated and the president of the rules committee of Nakedwood Creek is ... oh, my, I'm getting so nervous. Gimli, may I have a drumroll, please?"

"Sam!" Frodo whispered, grabbing his beloved's hand. "I just want you to know that whatever happens, I still love you."

"And the winner is ... Elrond!" The entire room cheered. Elrond walked up to the podium, clapping himself all the way.

"Aw, thanks, everyone. Thanks, Mom. And special thanks to my little lady, Celebrian. I couldn't have done it without you, baby." In the audience, Celebrian blushed. "Now, for my first order of business as six-time head of the rule committee." He cleared his throat. "Guards!"

Two burly men not wearing clothing but adorned with caps and batons marched in and grabbed Frodo and Sam by their armpits.

"Sam!" Frodo shrieked. "Don't let them manhandle me ... for too long!"

"Oh, Jesus," Sam sighed, his head hung low.

"We won't have to deal with them ever again, folks — they're going to prison!" Elrond beamed.


THE END