It was a good thing I had Augduras, my trusty sword, with me. The Orc behind the counter at the Mordor Central Post Office was overdue for her (his?) tea break and was mighty cranky.
All I wanted to do was to lodge a customs form so I could post the Hobbit Hole candle, but no-o-o-o. Mrs?/Mr?/Ms? Cranky-Pants-Orc was in a mo-o-od. Complete with eye-rolling, hip-propping, jaw-shifting, and strutting. The whole performance conjured up images of the lead cheerleader in Mean Girls. *Shudder*
I yawned (Good one, eh?) and lifted the corner of my denim jacket, all suave like, so the creature behind the counter could see I was packing heat (or, more precisely, a blade that was glowing an impressive shade of cobalt blue).
Let’s just say that little glimpse of the hilt settled him/her/it down.
Faster than you can say, “My Precious…,” the Orc whipped down the shade, flipped the lights–lit a frickin’ cigarette (! !)–and skedaddled, leaving a full waiting queue of a dozen or so elves, a trio of trolls, and one ornery-looking Nazgul right behind me.
The back screen door slammed, a Harley revved, and a storm of gravel rained against the aluminium siding of the Post Office building. Patrons shifted. Leather boots creaked. Crickets chirruped. Next thing I knew, the whole motley crew was looking at me…
I gulped and asked, “Can you believe the service in Mordor?”
When the Nazgul started cracking his (her?) knuckles, I figured I’d better do something. So, after unsheathing Augduras and hacking into confetti-sized bits the 17-page Mordor Border Control & Quarantine Customs form I’d filled in neatly on my trusty PDF reader app, I took my parcel and left.
I delivered the Hobbit Hole Candle to the winner of the Spilling Ink #HobbitDay2014 Give Away without the assistance of Mordor Postal Services, thank you very much.
Say hi to Shelly. Next time, we’ll have to share a pint up at her local, the One Legged Man. ‘Til then Shelly, enjoy your Hobbit Hole candle!
Best wishes to all from Middle Earth…
This is Hobbit Day 2014 over and out.
P.S. The word frickin’ was used for characterisation purposes and is not a normal part of my vocabulary.
And for that matter, in real life, I probably wouldn’t stare down an Orc.