DISCLAIMER:
The story is a fictional parody - it's not true, nor is it approved of by the celebrities named in the stories. Authors write these fictitious stories about famous people for the same reason that Larry Flynt made fun of Jerry Falwell, because they can. The Supreme Court of the United States, the country where this site is located, has ruled that parodies involving famous people are perfectly and totally legal under the United States Constitution. The specific case law on this was decided in the case of "Hustler Magazine, Inc. et al. v. Jerry Falwell" in 1988. No harm is intended toward the celebrities featured in these stories, but they are public figures and in being so, they must accept that they are fair target for parodies by the public. We believe in the first amendment, and more broadly, in the basic principle of free speech and this section may push the boundaries of that principle, but the United States Supreme Court has approved of this type of material. We believe that the Supreme Court was correct in their decision.
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"No, it ain't gonna happen, no matter what you give me to drink, you'll not learn my name, no, it's a secret only the Lord of the Nazgul can know. Yeah, I worked with Bill Ferney about the hobbits, yeah, those hobbits. I's the one who saw him disappear right in the middle of the bar. Youse go ahead, call me daft, but I tell ya is true. Mind you, the Lord of the Nazgul gave me a prize, a fine prize when I tol' him that hobbit disappeared."
"But stranger, I merely asked your name, the owner likes to know those I serve here."
"No, there's too many sharp knives, men and beast who'll 'em, sides I told you I worked with Bill Ferney," he said squinting his eye oddly at the barkeep.
"Barl, can't you see, 'es the one, look at the eye, squinting like that. Ferney told us about one like that, from the south I think," whispered the lady wiping the glasses with the dirty rag.
The barkeep slowly moved his gaze over to the stranger, stared at the squint eye and asked, "Where you from?"
"I been spending most my time in Hobbiton, on a mission of sorts, but 'fore that I came from the south."
The lady behind the bar grabbed the barkeep and pulled him to her, whispering in his ear, "Aye, 'es the Squint-eyed Southerner Ferney talked of. You best treat 'im right, 'es an agent."
"Agent?"
"Of Saruman. You don't need that kind of trouble, best let him drink and not worry of 'is name."