You may not know this, but Tolkien left out an important, history-changing kingdom in LOTR. How do I know?  Because I was there…

SOMEWHERE ON MIDDLE EARTH…

A random squire comes running up to me.  “Gondor calls for aid!”  He thrusts a finger at my bedroom window, where the beacons of Gondor are burning off in the distance.

As I roll away from a trio of hot Elven milfs, out of my bed and onto the floor, I scratch-n-sniff my nuts (why do we do that?  One of life’s greatest mysteries.), stare at the beacons, and declare, “AND DILF-HAN WILL ANSWER!”

The local king strides through my door.  “This realm is not Dilf-han, Kent Wayne of Earth.  It goes by—”

I interrupt with, “Before I portaled into your realm, I told a young woman my actual age, and she responded that I was a dilf.  It’s a play on Rohan, only with dilf at the beginning of it.  Get it?  Huh?  Yeah?”

“I understand what you’re saying, but we’re not going to change the name of—”

“What about THIS?”  I stand tall and flex my guns, tensing my abs and bringing them into stark relief.  “Dilfy as hell!”

He buries his eyes in the crook of his thumb and forefinger.  “No, that’s not what I—”

“How about…THIS???”  I shloop my undies off, and grab hold of my girthy upcurved wiener. 

“Ye gods!”  He extends his arms and shields his face, turning away so he doesn’t have to look at my egg-scrambling womb-hammer.  “Fine—call it what you want!  Just…put that away and put on some pants!”

“You got it.”  I shloop into my undies and cross my arms.  “What’s the deal?  Gonna head over to Gondor and fuck up Sauron’s cronies?”

“Nay, Kent Wayne of Earth.”  He nods at the window, drawing my attention toward Sauron’s Ringwraiths, closing the distance with frightening speed.

“They’re already here.”

Minutes later, I ride out to meet them with the army of Dilf-han.  I start giving them orders—spearmen, form two staggered lines and ready your weapons, everyone else fall in behind them and draw blades and clubs—but a second later, they turn tail and run.

“OH COME ON!” I spread my arms as they flee.  “I’M THE ONLY DILF HERE THAT’S WILLING TO FIGHT???  FINE—MORE ELF-MOMS FOR ME, YOU GUTLESS FUCKING COWARDS!”

“Turn and face us, dilf.”  The Ringwraith leader draws his sword.  “ ’Ere the end of this day, I’ll mount your head atop a pike.  The Dark Lord doesn’t care for your orifice-widening, mother-seducing genitals, and neither do his loyal servants.”  The rest of the Ringwraiths jeer and hiss.

“Um…shit.”  This would have been tough with a fully manned army, but now…

Fuck it.  No options left.  So I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending, reality-distortion powers.  Magic flash.

An interdimensional portal opens behind them, spewing out legions of snarling, blond-bobbed Karens.  Leading the charge is the One Karen to Rule Them All, otherwise known as my ex Irma Horfendorff.

The Karens descend like a swarm of locusts, tearing through undead flesh with rabid fervor.  Their leader breaks west.  A pack of Karens zeroes in on him, galloping toward him on all fours.  They leap high in the air, momentarily eclipsing the sun, before arrowing down like peregrine falcons and yanking him out of his motherfucking saddle. 

“Damn you, Kent Wayne!”  He shakes his gauntleted fist at me.  “DAMN YOU TO—HKKK!”  The rest of his words are lost in blood-drenched claws, the relentless gnashing of feral Karen teeth, and the haunting sight of a dozen blond bobs, ripping him to bits while asking for the manager.

Welp, that’s what you get for fucking with Dilf-han!  Eat shit, Ringwraiths—I got me some hot Elven moms who are requesting my Man Whore services! 

Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

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