Jason Feldner, son of Sauron the horrible, did look out onto the land and he said “Come, pathetic tool writer hobbits and test these drills, that I might crown the One Drill.” And so it was that the hobbits were made to to suffer in the bowels of Chicago’s heat in search of the One Drill for the son of Sauron.
“Screw!” Barked the Feldner. “Screw and screw some more! Find me the One Drill, for you will not be released from bondage until you do!” And the hobbits toiled.
The good hobbits did as they were driven to do, what their cruel master demanded of them. They drove the 3-inch screws into the 6×6 boards with tireless effort. Many along the way perished, but still their taskmaster whipped them forward. Marc of the HomeFixated.com Shire and Clint of the ProToolReview.com Keep were among the many brave fallen.
In due course, some emerged as heroes among the good hobbits while others, flagged by heat and driven to exhaustion, were simply silenced and tossed aside to rot beneath the carved concrete sarcophagus in a mass grave. It was a grave marked only by its master’s symbol — and the likeness of the One Drill’s original creator, Robert Bosch the Elder.
Still the hobbits were whipped to bring forth the One Drill. Whipped until after much driving in the heat, their lord Feldner crowned the Bosch drill to have outlasted the Milwaukee, Makita, and DeWalt 18v drills with 519 screws driven.
But no sooner did he have his prize than did the clever hobbits, led in part by Joe the Grey from his wooden perch, and not wanting the Feldner’s evil to spread, they did steal the One Drill and conspire to drop it into the fires of Mount Doom.
The hobbits rejoiced but were faced with a dilemma. None knew the way to Mount Doom or, in fact, Middle Earth. It seemed all was lost when it was discovered that the closest hell-like atmosphere available was Cleveland or perhaps downtown Detroit. Add to that the active volcano scene was sparse in Chicago, and you begin to appreciate the danger of failure they faced. It was then decided that the dropping itself was really the important part — not where the One Drill was dropped into nothingness.
So the Clever hobbits, wary of the wrath of the Feldner, chartered a Red Dragon to do away with the dread One Drill. Surely a drop of 500 feet from the claws of this beast would stop the dread lord’s diabolical evil.
So the good hobbits did what hobbits do best — they trudged. They trudged through the heat of their lord’s Chicago hell to the spot where the dragon would destroy the One Drill. Hopeful their misery was near a close.
The dragon did release the One Drill and let it fall. Down it went. 500 feet through the midsummer sky to meet its final end. The hobbits cried for joy, and the horror was indeed over. The One Drill was gone forever.
The hobbits returned to their valleys and keeps, secure in the knowledge that evil had been vanquished.
Unfortunately, the hobbits, while clever and inventive, had not counted on the One Drill’s solid construction. The Feldner retrieved the One Drill from the grassy field soon after the triumphant hobbits had gone. He pulled the trigger and the wicked tool of torque spun to life as it always had.
Dark days awaited the the good hobbits of Toolwriter Hollow — dark days, indeed.