It Doesn't Pay to Get Out of Bed

Posted: August 2003
Title: It Doesn't Pay to Get Out of Bed
Type: RPS
Author: Lostiawen
Rating: R for mentioning sex and rape in passing
Characters: OB
WARNING : Total Crack!Fic. The humor in this is weird and possibly surreal, so don't say I didn't warn you.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, none of this really happened. The author is not associated with or is implying anything about the sexual preferences or the lives of the people depicted within.
Beta: Elizabeth
Timeline: Sometime during the filming of LOTR.
Notes: I was tanking on my other writing, so I had to write this. FanonOrli as you know, tends to get kidnapped, raped, get into accidents, etc., so I just went off the deep end and wrote this Crack!Fic Oh, and because I loved it so much, I had to borrow the "peachy ass" phrase from EEEWWWW!!! by Hanarobi.

Summary: With all of the hazards Orli has to deal with every day, how does he make it to work?

****

The alarm rang and Orli burrowed under the covers, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. This was the moment he was dreading...getting up in the morning.

He picked up the magnifying glass by the bed stand and gingerly inspected the floor for shards of poisoned glass. He had stepped on those as soon as he had dropped his bags off in New Zealand, setting the tone for what was to come.

He saw no signs of any shards, and he breathed in relief. He crawled out of bed, and took a step. Nothing happened. Then he took another. Nothing.

He let go of his pent up breath, and cheerfully strolled towards the door.

Suddenly the dust filled the air, and his ceiling started collapsing. Squeaking in terror, he darted through the door just as a large safe crashed through his roof, destroying the bedroom.

"Bugger, and I just got it re-done this month," he grumbled.

Then he heard the tapping on his window.

"Oooorrlliiii," a shadowy figure called, "come on outssss and play with ussss. We wantsss to take you on a little ride."

Another figure appeared, radiating so much evil that the sun ran and hid, "Yessss, we wantss your peachy assss. We wants it, we must have itttt..."

Orlando groaned. He took a quick glance out his peephole and yelled, "Take a number! I already have 47 other peachy-arse craving blokes on my front lawn."

"Whatssss?" they both said in unison.

"You heard me! What do you intend to do after you have my obscenely firm elf-arse for breakfast, second breakfast and elevenses?"

"We will chain you and makes you suffer, yes, we will..." Orlando rolled his eyes. "Think of a new shtick, man, about a half dozen of the others are already going to do that.
At least number 47 threatened to show me re-runs of 'Waterworld' until I ate my own liver."

He heard the indignant shrieks of anguish and despair and muttered, "Amateurs." A look of alarm crossed his face as his stomach rumbled. He was hungry, and he'd have to deal with the toaster now.

The toaster was sitting innocently on the counter, but Orlando knew better. He tiptoed to the fridge, but it suddenly growled, "Where is my tribute?"

"Bugger off, I am *not* going to lop off a finger just so that I can make toast!" Orlando said. The appliance had become possessed after his first week here, and Orlando hated having to bargain with it every morning.

"I demand satisfaction!" it boomed.

Orlando sighed. The sodding thing would not accept any bread until he gave in. He carefully opened the door a crack and said, "Number 1? You can come in now and ravish my downy buttocks."

The kidnapping/raping/drug-dealing/nuclear-weapon wielding thug oozed through the door and stalked after Orlando. Orli squealed like a girl and ran past the toaster, stopping his frantic rush when he heard the horrible crunching noises that indicated to him that his attacker had met an end so horrible that no one in their right mind would dare to describe how the stalker got masticated, fried, pureed, frapped, tenderized, and then sucked into the dread demonic depths of his kitchen appliance.

It burped contentedly. Humming, Orlando opened the fridge, grabbed some bread and Nutella, and made his toast in peace. He cleaned up his breakfast dishes, avoided the man-eating weasels infesting his carpet and made it into the bathroom safely. He stripped, and opened his the shower door.

The killer alien toe fungus that had taken up residence there last night jumped at him, gibbering inhumanly. Orlando slammed the door quickly, watching the horrible shape ooze against the glass. Sighing, he cracked open the bathroom window and called, "Numbers 2 and 3? My flawless melon-ripe tuckus is available."

As he waited, he shook his head. 49 people was not nearly enough to survive this morning. Maybe 'Lij had some to spare.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Lostiawen