Well, guys, here it is. The end. It's better a little more than two years, and this is finally coming to a close...

Here's to making it the best chapter yet. And you guys all better review this time! all two hundred or so of you, plus any new readers! I slaved away making this list, you know!

So far the last time, I don't own Lord of the Rings, Chuck Norris, Pokemon, American Idol, Nerf, Target, or Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

96: I will not host the Support Mordor Bake Sale in Minas Tirith.

"Get your Mount Doom lava cookies!" Pippin ordered to the masses as the citizens of Minas Tirith passed by his gaudily decorated booth. A majority of them cast him death glares, but a few of the elderly and children actually dared to approach his Black and orange eyesore.

Faramir, who had just returned from his mission, raised an astonished eyebrow and strolled toward the bake sale.

"Hello there!" Pippin called. He held up two packages and asked, "Would you like the Orcerdoodles or the Eye of Sauron cupcakes?"

Moments later, the booth was torn to shreds and set aflame, and Pippin was fleeing from the furious lynch mob at his hairy hobbit heels.

97: Aragorn is NOT Chuck Norris, the Texas Ranger. Suggesting so will be my doom.

One day during the Fellowship's long, ridiculous, eventful journey that was more of them walking than anything eventful happening at all, Aragorn was bored. Very, truly, insanely bored. After all, you could only walk past so many trees in two months before they all looked the same.

So, to pass the time, he started creating absurd facts about himself, stealing them from the one man even Sauron wet his pants when faced with.

"Aragorn has a grizzly bear carpet in his room. The bear isn't dead, it's just afraid to move."

Every other member of the Fellowship exchanged incredulous glances. "Aragorn," murmured Boromir, "is there any particular reason why you're talking in third person?"

"He's finally gone insane!" cheered Pippin. "Welcome to the dark side, Strider!"

"Crazy, huh?" Sam muttered. "Guess that explains why he stole his joke."

Everyone except Aragorn shuddered, whereas the Ranger himself just continued, "Ghosts sit around the campfire and tell Aragorn stories. Aragorn died twenty years ago, Death just hasn't worked up the courage to tell him yet. Aragorn won American Idol using sign language."

Legolas facepalmed, which was a rare sight; these days, you never saw an elf besides Elrond do that.

"Fear of spiders is arachnophobia, fear of tight spaces is claustrophobia, fear of Aragorn is logic."

Finally, the vexed Legoas stepped in front of Aragorn. "Aragorn, don't you think that's enough? What if he comes after you? We require nine members for this journey!"

"Aragorn invented black," was the Ranger's answer to Legolas's frightful question. "In fact, he invented all the colors in the color spectrum...except pink. Legolas invented pink. Aragorn won the World Series of Poker using Pokemon cards. Aragorn-"

Out of nowhere, a fancy boot flew through the air and roundhouse kicked Aragorn in the face. Everyone else left the unconscious Ranger behind with his face planted in the mud, saying he had it coming.

98: Guns are not ideal weapons in Middle-Earth.

In the midst of the Battle of the Morannon, Gimli and Aragorn took cover together behind a nifty, very beautiful (to them, anyways) boulder to avoid the enemy's barrage of flaming arrows. "There's too many of them!"

Aragorn was about to give Gimli one of his super rousing motivational speeches (Gimli wasn't a son of Gondor or Rohan, so he had felt left out of Aragorn's previous speech of awesome) when a peculiar sound reached his ears. "Listen, Gimli. Do you hear that?"

HUB-HUB-HUB-HUB-HUB-

Aragorn and Gimli covered their heads with their arms as several metal projectiles sailed over their marvelous boulder and penetrated Orc skulls. Far above them, Eowyn, Faramir, and Merry had come to the rescue in a bizarre metal flying contraption that appeared to be held up only by a gigantic propeller. Eowyn and Merry were armed with unusual metal weapons and Faramir was seemingly steering it.

"EAT LEAD, ORCS!" Eowyn shrieked with the glee of a blood knight as she fired her weapon.

The army of good could only gawk.

99: I will not propose to Gollum using the One Ring. If he says yes, I will not exclaim, "Psych!" and slip on the Ring.

"Stinker - I mean Smeagol," Sam corrected himself quickly and turned to face the...former hobbit in a loincloth. He gulped nervously. "I don't know how to say this to you..."

Gollum upturned both his nose and his lip at Sam. "What does nasty fat hobbitsy want with Smeagol?"

Sam, meanwhile, just could not spit it out. "Well, we've been travelling together for a while...and I've come to know and respect you." Smeagol raised a nonexistent eyebrow but, for once, refrained from mercilessly insulting the chubby gardener. "Some might even say I lo...lo...Oh screw it." Sam got down on one knee and raised out Smeagol's ultimate treasure in his hand: the One Ring. "Will you marry me, Gollum Smeagol Slinker Stinker Cupcake the Shih Tzu the third, the kinda love of my life who isn't anywhere near as pretty as Rosie?"

Smeagol, enticed by his beloved precious (PRECIOUS!), could only blurt out a joyful, "YES, NASTY HOBBIT!"

Then, to Smeagol's horror, the doting smile on Sam's face transformed into a nasty, wicked grin. "Psych!" he slipped on the Ring, and Smeagol screamed in fury.

If one looked at Frodo closely, one would see Frodo handing an invisible hand twenty dollars and saying, "You're crazy, Sam."

100: I will not reenact the Battle of the Morannon as a musical, complete with a Nazgul kick line and Legolas being played by a woman.

The curtain rolled open, and a bishonen Aragorn, a female Legolas, and someone who somehow looked exactly like Gimli (the play was already set to win Best Makeup at the Tony Awards) paraded onto the terribly built set.

"Men of Gondor! Men of Rohan!" Aragorn's actor belted out in a deep baritone voice. "Our time has finally come! And if we triumph in this battle, we'll chug our weight in rum!"

"I do like rum, I do like rum, it makes me go yum yum!" Gimli's actor added. After the play's run was over on Broadway, it was easy to see why they only performed two shows, what with lines like this.

Legolas's actress scratched the back of her head. "My elven looks will pull us through! If we don't survive, now, don't look blue! My fan girls will come and they will brew up chaos in our wake!"

"Arrogant much..." Gimli's actor muttered.

The great war began, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli began hacking through the enemy ranks with the Nerf foam weapons they had bought at Target for fourteen ninety-nine apiece.

But then the Nazgul arrived on the scene! Oh nooooo!

Rather than do anything actually frightening, the Nazgul formed a nice little line and went low kick right, low kick left, medium kick right, medium kick left, as they sang, "We're men of the land Mordor! When Sauron gives an order, we go and chop around the block until our enemies smolder!"

"Wrong musical, guys!" Aragorn's actor reprimanded as he chopped one Ringwraith's head off mid high kick.

...And there we have it, guys. The end. THE. END. I'm not done writing at all, just for this fic! I have other fics, if you guys are interested, as well as my other list, 444 Things I'm Not Allowed to Do in Amestris.

Thanks to all my reviewers! Special thanks go to ThisMortalCoil, who helped me get past much writer's block; every member of the Random Order, for the same thing; LochNessieMonster on Deviantart, for drawing fan art of the number 2 on this list; the makers of all the pop culture I reference in this story; and my dog, for being awesome.

No thanks go out to dairy farmers, who try to supply America with the nightmare that is milk. I do thank them for yogurt, though...the only decent dairy product out there.

If you guys want to help em make my way to my dream number of one thousand reviews, that'd be nice. Equivalent Exchange! It's the policy I live by! A review for a great story that a writer put so much work into!

T-t-t-that's all, folks!