Paper-induced dementia, part 4

Ooo, a new interview with the fat hobbit.

He hates it when we calls him fat!

Fat fat fat!

[Maniacal giggling]

[Happy sigh]

How is paper coming, precious?

Fat fat fat!

That doesn't sound good, precious.

[Weeping] We hates it.

How many pages do we have, precious?

Only seven! Seven seven seven!

Can't we go back to the criticses and the databases?

No! It burns! Don't make us go back to the databases, precious!

We must, precious! Good master says we must! At least six criticses, precious, for good master!

[Weeping]

Paper-induced dementia, part 5

[Rocking back and forth

How many pageses does we have, precious?

[Counting] One... two... F... blue... nine. We haves nine.

[Shrieking] We fails, precious!

We can do it, precious! We can finish the nassty paper! (Yes, finish the nassty paper, squeeze it, precious! Wring its filthy neck...) What's that smell?

[Sniffing the air] They're cooking the Chex mix!

AHHHHHH! Why do they do it, precious? Why do they cook the nice Chexes in butter and sprinkle nassties on them?

Cruel parentses! Cruel, wicked parentses who eat up all the snackses and cook the nice Chexes! They knows it makes us sick! They knows it burns, precious, it freezes! Nobody likes us! Nobody cares if we starves! Nobody cares if we--if we--

Now, don't go roarking in the pool again, precious...

[Too late]