The Dark Realms

 

 

Conjured flames licked gleefully along the stone walls of the tower as the evil wizard Saruman, cackling in delight, cast vile spells to summon the universe's nastiest creatures to the aid of his foul master Sauron, Lord of Mordor.

 

Several fiery pah-wraiths floated down from the tower's ceiling just before a rather rumpled Gul Dukat landed with a thump in the middle of the floor, barely missing the wizard's black crystal ball.  Saruman halted his incantations for a moment as he gave the new arrival an appraising glance.  The clangor of orcs' hammers outside the tower could now be heard clearly.

 

Sudden shrieks from the pah-wraiths gave Dukat just enough warning to scramble out of the way before rocks, dirt, and even a few broken stalactites came tumbling down, followed by the bearded and turbaned figure of Osama bin Laden.  The latter had the misfortune of landing directly on top of a pah-wraith, which scorched off his beard almost instantly and gave his scalp second-degree burns before he could tear off his flaming turban.  Another inquisitive pah-wraith wandered close enough to set the rest of his clothing on fire.  Saruman and Dukat watched with broad smirks as the terrorist frantically ripped off his smoldering underwear.

 

"Now there's something I wouldn't mind sinking my staff into," Saruman remarked, looking appreciatively at the smoke rising from Osama's blistered pink rump.  "Bend over and prepare to serve your master, you worthless dog!"

 

Clenching his fists in response, the terrorist lunged toward Saruman, shouting, "You are the Evil One!"

 

"No, I'm just one of his collaborators," Saruman admitted, as he swung his staff up to meet the assault and speared Osama neatly in the solar plexus, instantly knocking all the wind out of his attacker.  "But the pay's not bad, and the perks are excellent."

 

Osama, bent almost double as he staggered toward the black crystal ball, fought to draw breath as the pah-wraiths circled above him like hungry vultures.  Saruman took a step closer.

 

"Yes, I've got a fondness for men with long, rangy limbs and a rump like a horse's," the wizard continued, "but then, it goes without saying that anyone who turns up here in response to my conjuring spells has got to be a horse's ass."

 

"I resent that remark," Dukat sputtered.  "You didn't conjure me.  I fell into the pit entirely by accident."

 

Saruman cackled again.  "That's what they all say.  But come now, my fine felon, life's not so bad in the dark realms.  I'm sure you're going to enjoy all the war and devastation I'm about to wreak on those icky-sweet hobbits and elves.  As a sign of my good faith, I'll even let you have the first whack at our new recruit's deliciously toasted tuckus, unless you don't go for men, that is."

 

Dukat glanced toward a still gasping Osama with little interest.  "Actually, I prefer corpses a few days old, when the rot has begun to set in.  The aroma is so wonderfully arousing, if you know what I mean?  Nothing else like it."

 

"Suit yourself.  I've got more fiends to conjure."  Saruman began another incantation.  As he raised his voice in a hellish shout, a terrified, quaking Donald Trump suddenly appeared in the tower.  Cash floated in the air around him, only to be incinerated within seconds by the pah-wraiths.  Seeing this, but powerless to stop it, Trump gaped in helpless horror and keeled over from a fatal heart attack.

 

Dukat gave the body a scornful nudge with his boot.  "You're not going to try to convince me that any splendid acts of superlative evil came out of this sorry specimen, are you?"

 

"Oops, wrong spell.  I wanted a throat-cutting buccaneer, not a cutthroat financier.  My bad."  Saruman shrugged.  "That's all right, he'll be useful as orc fodder.  Those orcs are such spoiled babies, always whining for more man-flesh."

 

While the wizard's gaze was diverted from Osama bin Laden, the terrorist made a grab for the black crystal ball, plainly intending to brain Saruman with it.  As soon as his fingers touched it, an evil glow appeared, and the Eye of Sauron appeared in all its baleful glory.  That got Saruman's attention, and a few more well-aimed blows promptly restored Osama to the desired position.

 

Saruman then opened his white robe to reveal his hugely erect pole, which glowed like a red-hot poker.  Steam was rising from it.  In response to Dukat's stare, Saruman explained, "An occasional effect of the evil spells I cast.  It's really very pleasant, especially when Sauron watches.  I do so love it when Sauron watches."  And the wizard giggled loudly as he parted Osama's buttocks.

 

As the terrorist's anguished howls echoed through the tower, Gul Dukat, left alone for the moment, surreptitiously dragged Trump's corpse off to a nearby alcove.  Life in the dark realms wasn't bad at all, Dukat decided.