As ve verre bos covered mit volcano ash from ze balrog coffee and beating each ozerr on ze headt mit giant igneous rock coffee beans, I laughed and said, “You rrememberr your long search forr Tolkien’s daughter?”

“What’s it to you, bozo?” proclaimed MORAMBAR UDUNVAGOR.

“Vell,” I said vith a charming schmile [almost as charming as a greedy roach—Pseudo]. “You yourself arre ze illegitimate daughter of Tolkien mit ein lady-space ant. To save you and eliminate all trraces, you verre taken avay und subjected to a sex change in early childhood. Your fascinatsion for Tolkien zerreforre is naught but a childhoodt trrauma.”

Zen Herr Morrambarr fainted und ze shock caused him a permanent amnesia, und also he fell into ein vat of lava zat vas being turrned into coffee by ein Balrrog barista.

“This is really annoying,” said the Balrog barista. “I spent three centuries preparing this coffee, and you have to ruin it by throwing a weird semi-human creature into it.”

“I think a coffee flavoured with a semi-human space ant hybrid’s brain is a delightfully novel idea,” said one of the guests, a Baron Batrog.

“I think it would be more amusing to reconstruct the creature and see what happens,” replied Count Caliroasto.

Zey all agreed mit dem Count, undt zey set to vorrk, vile I wrote in mine casebook about Balrrog ppsychosen.

“There’s not enough of the creature’s physical substance,” said the Marquis Igneo. “Let’s see if we can borrow something amusing from another dimension.”

“Good idea,” said Count Caliroasto. And he rrolled a die to see vhich dimension zey shouldt use.

Baron Batrog vas still sulking over not having gotten his Morrambarr-flavorred coffee.

Cuba von ze die-rroll, so ze balrogs gave Herrrr Morrambarr a new body made out of solid lava undt Cuban cigar-leaves, in collaborratsion mit ze Cubanish doctors. Und intsidentally, it ist because ze balrogs dared to brreak ze U.S. blockade zat Castro has heldt on so long; ze missilecrrisis vas but a distractsion off JFK’s ppsychismus.

Ze new body vas a verry goodt likeness, mit verry small behind ze ears Antennae und trriple joints. Off courrse, he keeps ze antennae rregularlich shaved; und any who sees zem ist instantly slain. Und it has a fine cigarrr-arroma vich ist doubtless an olefactorisch Phallic-metaphor.


[Note from Pseudonymus the Viceregent:

The anti-smoking laws are just a plot against Morambar UDUNVAGOR because he is partly composed of tobacco. The antis are really anti-Tolkien's truth. Death to anti-ants! Glory to him whereof the sensor hairs growing out his esteemed Nose sense LIES!]


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