Sol Confederacy

"Roving reporter for the Hobbiton News, Gilbo Boffin, here! It's time once again for our weekly 'Man on the Street' interview where we approach citizens of middle-earth and ask them questions. Today we are in Bree, and it's a crowded day here in the Man-city! Let's take a walk down to Market Square and see who we can find."

"What's this? There's some drunkard in the fountain! It looks like he's just waking up...let's head on over and see who it is!"

"Why, it's Thalaric Kain, leader of the Shire's Second Breakfast Constabulary! Quite a precarious situation to find yourself in for someone of your stature, wouldn't you say?"


Thalaric: "Yaaaaawn. Eh? What's going on? Where am I?"

Reporter: "You must've been hitting the ale pretty hard last night, Mr. Kain. You've wound up in the Bree fountain again."



Thalaric: "Back off, stubby. It's hard work running things...I got a lot on my mind."

Reporter: "Tell us, why is it so difficult being the boss at Second Breakfast?"



Thalaric: "Well, I'll tell ya. First, it's these new uniforms. They keep riding up and I swear they're made out of orc skin or something. I'm chaffing in places I don't want to talk about. And that damn Therodir. It's a never ending job keeping that one out of trouble."

Reporter: "I see. But surely that can't be what's leading you to all the drinking binges! Even your son, Beasley, is concerned for your health and well-being!"



Thalaric: "Ah yes...I remember the night I met his mother. Met her over at the Prancing Pony. Quite the little vixen, that one. She couldn't keep her hands off of me. Gosh, she sure was beautiful. She was the love of my life, wonder whatever happened to her."

Reporter: "Huh? No, Mr. Kain...I was there that night. She was a one-legged call girl. You were investigated when they found her body at the bottom of your well."



Thalaric: "Oh, right. No comment."

Reporter: "Okay, moving on. So what brings you to the Bree fountain this morning?"



Thalaric: "Well, if you must know, I was out with a lady-friend. We partied into the night and I guess things got out of hand. Cute little number too, a hobbit. She had a strange foot fetish though...I was picking fur out of my teeth for hours."

Reporter: "That's disgusting!"



Thalaric: "Yaaaaawn. Let's wrap this up, half-pint. I'm a busy man, I have things to do."

Reporter: "Like figuring out what happened to your pants?"



Thalaric: "Eh?"

WTF? Beasley is adopted.

that's not what you said when you were filing your taxes

Your right. I said "What do you mean you don't want to take this little brat instead of the tax money?!?"

Haha. Lovely