The Corruption and Degredation of Mary Sue
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-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
42
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1,622
Reviews:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
42
Views:
1,622
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Semtex for Oil
Chapter 16: Semtex for Oil
“Right. Well I have no idea how the fuck you make this shit, but I’ll be willing to offer you a substantial reward if you let me have all of what you’ve got,” said Saruman. He had invited his guests into an imperious dining room and the three of them were sitting at the far end of a massive oak table. Saruman was holding a small amount of semtex, examining it closely.
“That’s fine. Just point us to the nearest oil deposits and let me rebuild my might nation! If you assist us, I guarantee that we shall your devoted allies,” said Saddam.
“Speak for yourself,” mumbled Osama. What was the point of setting up a decent republic when you didn’t have any devout followers to populate it with?
“Oil? What, cooking oil?” asked Saruman.
“No! Crude oil! What do you use here for power?” demanded Saddam.
“Quiet you,” snapped Osama. “Do you see any electricity?”
“No,” replied Saddam hesitantly.
“Do you see any vehicles?”
“No…”
“Well there you go. Chances are they live without oil,” said Osama.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Saruman.
“Where we come from we have the ability to use crude oil for a multitude of energy needs. We can use it to generate
light, power an automated vehicle, and so” ex” explained Osama patiently.
“And it’s the most important resource ever! With it you can wield great power!” said Saddam enthusiastically.
“Is that so?” replied Saruman, the gears in his corrupt mind turning. These outlanders spoke of power that had not
been tapped in Middle Earth. It was an intriguing thought. The wizard’s mind wandered towards the Palantír secreted away in a chamber far within the higher reaches of the great tower.
“Now where would we find this ‘oil’?” demanded Saruman of his guests. They both shrugged.
“You drill for it! Great big wells that tower up high, pumping gallons of black gold every hour of the day,” sighed Saddam, thinking longingly of his oil fields back home in Iraq. “Look, I’ve got a small bottle of it from home.” Saddam opened his bag and pulled out a small plastic water bottle filled with crude oil.
“Excellent. With knowledge of what I’m looking for I can scry for more of the same,” said Saruman, barely disguising his glee. “I must discuss this with other great powers of this land.” He stood up and pely ely inclined his head to his guests. They were too damned useful to be rude to. “And of course, I guarantee you gentlemen a piece of the action,” he added before striding out of the door, robes flowing authoritatively with each step he took.
“Whoo!!! I get oil fields again!!” cackled Saddam. Calmly sipping a small glass of plain tea and never losing his air of evil tranquillity, bin Laden reached forward and smacked Saddam on the nose again. “What the fuck was that for?!” screamed the agitated dictator.
“Allah made me do it,” replied Osama calmly. “And how will THIS help us bring down the American evil?” demanded Osama.
“Well, we’ve got a blank slate! You can spread the word of Islam and have sanctuary in my new state!”
“Only if you promise to make it a proper Islamic state with Sharia law in place!” warned Osama. Saddam sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes, just don’t expect me to adopt your lifestyle,” snapped Saddam.
“Whatever,” sighed Osama. The annoying mustached gimp had a point. And once this world was converted, it would mean so many more fundtalitalists to bring with him when he one day returned to Earth. In addition, cashing in on a three-way monopoly on this world’s oil industry before it was even needed, as well as assisting the wizard with what engineering he knew. There was something bugging his conscience in that he was assisting a practitioner of magic. But the he’d just teamed up with an amoral irreverent megalomaniac with camel turds for brains and a taste for torture.
‘As long as the end justified the means.’ Osama repeated that thought continuously in his head as Saddam started prattling on about how he couldn’t wait to exploit the peasants to build him a fantastic palace.
Upstairs, Saruman had been using his powers to do some simple scrying. It did not take him long to learn where deposits of the same substance contained in the outlandish bottle lay forgotten beneath the earth. Conveniently a few of them appeared to be in Mordor. That was useful. Looking at his super-secret-mystical-scrying-map, he scanned for the largest deposit and located it.
And Saruman began to smile, an evil glint in his eye.
He turned swiftly, dropping his super-secret-mystical-scrying map on the floor and pulling out a book on a bookcase that turned into a swinging door. Saruman liked his clichés. He hurried up the stairway into a room that was unadorned except for a pedestal in the centre holding a shining sphere.
“My Lord,” said Saruman in hushed tones, gazing deep into the Palantír.
“What? What are you pestering me about now?” demanded a deep and menacing voice that resounded throughout the room.
“I bring you great news! Two of those humans from far off have arrived in my tower!” said Saruman. He was answered by a resoundingly agitated groan.
“You too? Fuck. The number of spastic little black-clad fifteen year old humans that have turned up in Mordor has now reached seven. Still, the Balrogs seem to like playing with them.”
“No, no, it’s not like that! These two bring with them powerful weapons and great knowledge!” interjected Saruman before Sauron could go off on one about how wretched his life currently was. “Anyway I thought you were into all that S&M crap,” he added as an afterthought.
“That’s none of your business!” snapped Sauron defensively. “Now tell me of this great knowledge.”
“A substance called oil. Apparently it is of great worth in technological development. There are deposits of it in Mordor, which may prove to be of use. I intend to use what knowledge of their technology they can impart upon me to develop our own. Apparently possession of this gives great power!” Saruman was now visibly trembling with excitement.
“This intrigues me. Where are other sources of this oil?”
“Oh, you’re going to love this. Imladris.”
“Imladris? Elrond’s back yard? Fantastic! Oh that is fucking GREAT!” snorted Sauron sarcastically.
“No! You don’t understand. One of these humans is a complete madman who is intent on building a new army. Fuck knows what the other one does, although he’s got a great beard. But anyway why not exploit him, my lord? Wage a war by proxy perhaps?” suggested Saruman.
“Now… that is an interesting prospect. Fine. I’ll arm the humans and you can send them off to take on Elrond. I’m sure they will have some outlandish tactics with which to occupy that territory. Now go. I must think some more on all this.” With that, the connection between Saruman and the Dark Lord was broken.
Looking smug at having appeased his secret master, Saruman returned downstairs, elated and optimistic.
“Right. Well I have no idea how the fuck you make this shit, but I’ll be willing to offer you a substantial reward if you let me have all of what you’ve got,” said Saruman. He had invited his guests into an imperious dining room and the three of them were sitting at the far end of a massive oak table. Saruman was holding a small amount of semtex, examining it closely.
“That’s fine. Just point us to the nearest oil deposits and let me rebuild my might nation! If you assist us, I guarantee that we shall your devoted allies,” said Saddam.
“Speak for yourself,” mumbled Osama. What was the point of setting up a decent republic when you didn’t have any devout followers to populate it with?
“Oil? What, cooking oil?” asked Saruman.
“No! Crude oil! What do you use here for power?” demanded Saddam.
“Quiet you,” snapped Osama. “Do you see any electricity?”
“No,” replied Saddam hesitantly.
“Do you see any vehicles?”
“No…”
“Well there you go. Chances are they live without oil,” said Osama.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Saruman.
“Where we come from we have the ability to use crude oil for a multitude of energy needs. We can use it to generate
light, power an automated vehicle, and so” ex” explained Osama patiently.
“And it’s the most important resource ever! With it you can wield great power!” said Saddam enthusiastically.
“Is that so?” replied Saruman, the gears in his corrupt mind turning. These outlanders spoke of power that had not
been tapped in Middle Earth. It was an intriguing thought. The wizard’s mind wandered towards the Palantír secreted away in a chamber far within the higher reaches of the great tower.
“Now where would we find this ‘oil’?” demanded Saruman of his guests. They both shrugged.
“You drill for it! Great big wells that tower up high, pumping gallons of black gold every hour of the day,” sighed Saddam, thinking longingly of his oil fields back home in Iraq. “Look, I’ve got a small bottle of it from home.” Saddam opened his bag and pulled out a small plastic water bottle filled with crude oil.
“Excellent. With knowledge of what I’m looking for I can scry for more of the same,” said Saruman, barely disguising his glee. “I must discuss this with other great powers of this land.” He stood up and pely ely inclined his head to his guests. They were too damned useful to be rude to. “And of course, I guarantee you gentlemen a piece of the action,” he added before striding out of the door, robes flowing authoritatively with each step he took.
“Whoo!!! I get oil fields again!!” cackled Saddam. Calmly sipping a small glass of plain tea and never losing his air of evil tranquillity, bin Laden reached forward and smacked Saddam on the nose again. “What the fuck was that for?!” screamed the agitated dictator.
“Allah made me do it,” replied Osama calmly. “And how will THIS help us bring down the American evil?” demanded Osama.
“Well, we’ve got a blank slate! You can spread the word of Islam and have sanctuary in my new state!”
“Only if you promise to make it a proper Islamic state with Sharia law in place!” warned Osama. Saddam sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes, just don’t expect me to adopt your lifestyle,” snapped Saddam.
“Whatever,” sighed Osama. The annoying mustached gimp had a point. And once this world was converted, it would mean so many more fundtalitalists to bring with him when he one day returned to Earth. In addition, cashing in on a three-way monopoly on this world’s oil industry before it was even needed, as well as assisting the wizard with what engineering he knew. There was something bugging his conscience in that he was assisting a practitioner of magic. But the he’d just teamed up with an amoral irreverent megalomaniac with camel turds for brains and a taste for torture.
‘As long as the end justified the means.’ Osama repeated that thought continuously in his head as Saddam started prattling on about how he couldn’t wait to exploit the peasants to build him a fantastic palace.
Upstairs, Saruman had been using his powers to do some simple scrying. It did not take him long to learn where deposits of the same substance contained in the outlandish bottle lay forgotten beneath the earth. Conveniently a few of them appeared to be in Mordor. That was useful. Looking at his super-secret-mystical-scrying-map, he scanned for the largest deposit and located it.
And Saruman began to smile, an evil glint in his eye.
He turned swiftly, dropping his super-secret-mystical-scrying map on the floor and pulling out a book on a bookcase that turned into a swinging door. Saruman liked his clichés. He hurried up the stairway into a room that was unadorned except for a pedestal in the centre holding a shining sphere.
“My Lord,” said Saruman in hushed tones, gazing deep into the Palantír.
“What? What are you pestering me about now?” demanded a deep and menacing voice that resounded throughout the room.
“I bring you great news! Two of those humans from far off have arrived in my tower!” said Saruman. He was answered by a resoundingly agitated groan.
“You too? Fuck. The number of spastic little black-clad fifteen year old humans that have turned up in Mordor has now reached seven. Still, the Balrogs seem to like playing with them.”
“No, no, it’s not like that! These two bring with them powerful weapons and great knowledge!” interjected Saruman before Sauron could go off on one about how wretched his life currently was. “Anyway I thought you were into all that S&M crap,” he added as an afterthought.
“That’s none of your business!” snapped Sauron defensively. “Now tell me of this great knowledge.”
“A substance called oil. Apparently it is of great worth in technological development. There are deposits of it in Mordor, which may prove to be of use. I intend to use what knowledge of their technology they can impart upon me to develop our own. Apparently possession of this gives great power!” Saruman was now visibly trembling with excitement.
“This intrigues me. Where are other sources of this oil?”
“Oh, you’re going to love this. Imladris.”
“Imladris? Elrond’s back yard? Fantastic! Oh that is fucking GREAT!” snorted Sauron sarcastically.
“No! You don’t understand. One of these humans is a complete madman who is intent on building a new army. Fuck knows what the other one does, although he’s got a great beard. But anyway why not exploit him, my lord? Wage a war by proxy perhaps?” suggested Saruman.
“Now… that is an interesting prospect. Fine. I’ll arm the humans and you can send them off to take on Elrond. I’m sure they will have some outlandish tactics with which to occupy that territory. Now go. I must think some more on all this.” With that, the connection between Saruman and the Dark Lord was broken.
Looking smug at having appeased his secret master, Saruman returned downstairs, elated and optimistic.