Boromir of the Halitosis
Saraman

Disclaimer: Boromir is not mine. None of the characters are mine. J.R.R. Tolkien invented them all in his extremely creative mind. Alas that mine is not so creative. Oh well. It seems that Boromir had his own reasons for wanting the Ring.

Once upon a time, there lived in Gondor, a man named Boromir. Boromir lived a good life and was fairly happy, but he had a small problem. You see, he had a tremendously serious case of halitosis. His breath was so putrid, if he came within miles of a town, people would slam their doors and shut their windows to keep the smell out. This offended our hero greatly, and so, he decided to try and correct his one horrendous flaw. He went to see a doctor. After the doctor clamped a clothespin on his own nose, he gave Boromir some medicine and told him to pour three tablespoons down his throat every five minutes. After this, handed him a great big, jumbo-sized, container of Altoidsä.
Boromir did what the doctor ordered. It didn’t help. Neither did the Altoidsä. Also, Boromir ran out of medicine after two doses. He was going to get some more, and he was almost in the door when he noticed the sign in the window. In print so small Boromir had to fish around to find a magnifying glass, it read:
“Within these walls practices a quack physician.” Boromir never went back again. In fact, he was so disgusted by the physician’s display, he left Gondor and traveled far and wide to see famous doctors that might be able to cure him. But each time, he was disappointed. One day, he heard about an amazing doctor who lived in a place called Rivendell.
“Rivendell?” Boromir wondered aloud. “I’ve never been there. Might make a lovely vacation. Now who’s this master doctor? Elrond the Great. Sounds like a ringmaster from a circus.” But he went anyway. At least it was worth a try.
When he arrived, he was just in time for a meeting of some type. He kind of sat listening in for a while. Then, he got bored and decided he would argue. Maybe then the meeting would adjourn sooner. He argued long, saying things that weren’t relevant because he didn’t know what the heck they were talking about. During this meeting, everyone wore extremely plastic smiles. What they all were thinking was:
“Whoa! This guy stinks! I gotta get outta here! I’m gonna hurl!” But before everyone made a run for it, this little short dude stood up and said something about a ring. Boromir was surprised. Then he noticed that there was a ring sitting on a little pedestal and he was even more surprised. He thought it was the Magic Wishing Ring that was in the bedtime story that Lord Denethor used to read to him when he was young. That ring would give the wearer one wish, but after each wish, something was taken from the wisher. Boromir had to have it. His mind was formulating a plan. He couldn’t just go up and grab it. The Elves would have him stuck so full of arrows, he’d make a pincushion look bad if he made so much as a move towards the Magic Wishing Ring. So after people started volunteering to go with said little short dude, he decided to sign up too, much to the other’s chagrin.
“Ya better stock up on clothespins,” advised a hairy little dude with an axe to a tall elf dude.
To make a long story short, he joined up, traveled through untold danger and hardship over Caradhras, through the Mines of Moria, into Loth-lorien, and down the Anduin. He was going insane with madness to get the Magic Wishing Ring, but the tall elf dude with a longbow had an eye on him and that would be bad. He had to get the little short dude alone somewhere and get it then. Finally, they got to shore and set up a camp.
“Hey, little short dude,” called our hero, “what say you and me go for a walk in the woods?”
“The name’s Frodo,” said the little short dude, “and for what purpose should we go for a walk in the orc-infested woods?”
“I smell adventure just waiting in the woods!” replied Boromir. “I never forget a smell!” At once, everyone and their dog (except, of course, for the short little dude, because he was smart) dashed into the woods.
“Ok,” said Boromir. “Not exactly the response I expected, but we can work it that way too.” Boromir grabbed the Magic Wishing Ring from the little short dude and put it on. Before he could make a wish, he disappeared. But he wished anyway.
“I wish that my halitosis breath was gone forever!” His wish came true! He whooped and hollered for joy. His breath was as fresh as the winter breeze. He whooped and hollered some more. Unfortunately, he whooped and hollered a little too loud.
Suddenly, a bunch of Uruk-hai charged out of the trees and went berserk. They fired off millions of arrows randomly at the little short dude. But since Boromir was standing in front of said little short dude, he got skewered like half a million times and fell over dead.

And that, my friend, concludes the story of how Boromir got his wish, but paid for it with his life. FYI- The Fellowship had to make up a little story about how he turned heroic in the end and defended the Hobbits, but… I’m afraid it simply wasn’t what happened. Boromir? Defend the Hobbits? Hahahahahaha!! Absurd!

Finis