In this high-fantasy blockbuster, a group of pansy midgets and their crotchety old man buddy go on a long, boring, never-ending cross country trip from hell, all to hand off some crappy, Claire’s boutique looking jewelry.
Our tale bangs off in the shittiest age in human history: medieval times. Everybody smells like piss, they don’t have any internets, and people fuck each other to death with swords and magic on a daily basis. So awful.
Somewhere out in the English countryside, there’s this town of tiny people. They’re tending to their tiny farms, screwing their tiny goats, and just having a really tiny time. They’re also a bunch of fat, lazy, stinking drunks. All they wanna do is eat and party and bang each other all day long.
Well, that all changes when a haggard old fart comes rolling into town. This mummified son of a bitch wants the head village midget and his boyfriend to go on an epic walking tour of the south, maybe get into some hair-brained adventures and whacky shenanigans along the way. In fact, he doesn’t really “ask” them to come with him, he fucking demands it. Also, another midget couple tags along for the ride, cause they hear that there will be some serious antiquing on this trip, and they just can’t resist.
I guess the old guy works for Medieval FedEx or something, cause the whole point of the trip is to deliver a shitty looking wedding band to some ring loving asshole who lives down in southern ass-slammer central. He placed his order weeks ago (which is, like, sending a crow with a note shoved up it’s butt, or something), and now he’s having a major hissy fit that it hasn’t arrived in his bejeweled hands on time. The guy’s a real fruit cake too. He loves rings so much, he calls himself “A Lord of Rings”. This dude’s so into frigging rings, he’s probably got one strapped on his dick. Also, since they’ve got a conflict of interest with their brand names, he’s probably got a constant gay-off battle going with “The Lord of the Dance”.
Anyway, on their quest, they meet up with a few regular sized yokles, get chased around by some “scary” ghosts, and fight off a bunch of backwoods, rapy looking Orcs as they travel deeper and deeper into the south. Just like in modern times, unless you want to get butt slammed by a horde of hillbilly freaks, you should never, ever go down south.
At one point, the old jerk they’re traveling with gets into a major tussle with what looks like a flaming Benny the Bull, and he gets his geriatric ass handed to him. Yeah, great tour guide you guys got there. He can’t even handle an angry mascot that’s already on fire! He’s so goddamn old, his Birth Certificate probably says “expired” on it. His social security number is just a 1. His idea of Happy Hour is taking a really long nap. He’s got an autographed copy of the Bible, cause he was Jesus Christ’s fucking camp counselor, and you’re gonna put your small-adult lives into his liver-spotted, shaky, arthritic hands?
So, the little guys are all on their own now, and, of course, they immediately get kidnapped by some rednecky goblins. And… that’s pretty much it for this bullshit. The sequels continue the epic journey, but, honestly, it’s a movie about a fucking ring. Who gives a fuck what happens next? For all I know, that Lord of Rings gets his nut sack pierced with the goddamn thing.
1 Bullet: If you’re really into rings, or if you know what a Ren Faire is, you’ll love this so, so much. But if you’re a normal person, maybe just steer clear of this medieval piece of garbage, cause you’re probably not gonna wanna listen to a bunch queer midgets talk about rings for three goddamn hours.