Three Short ONES
The One Shirt
"What's this doin in your pack?" Ennis said, pulling out an old bloody shirt.
"That's your One Shirt," Jack said. "There are markings on it, but it's in some form of English, and I you know I can't read."
"There are few around here who can," Ennis muttered. "This is written in the language called 'proper English,' which we can't utter here."
"No, but in common tongue it reads 'One Shirt for y'all. One Shirt to bind em. In the closet keep it all, until at last he finds it."
One shot thing
Sam: This is a one-shot thing we got going here.
Frodo: It's nobody's business but ours.
Sam: You know I ain't queer.
Frodo: Me neither.
The One Ringer
"It's such a burden. Will ya let me help him?" Ennis begs.
"No, filthy, nasty, Jacks," Alma says, spittin and starin at Jack's crotch. "He'll get no help here."
"He can't help it if he has unnatural needs," Ennis continues. "Please! Let me help him!"
"I can't recall the taste of food or water," Jack complains. "The touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark and there's... there's nothing... nothing between me 'n him but his huge hard on. It's so big."
"Forget the bitch," says Ennis, pushin Alma aside. "Come on, Mr. Jack. I'll take care of you. Come with me." Ennis hoists Jack onto his back, knocking Alma to the floor. "Let's be rid of her once and for all. Maybe I can't carry it, but I can carry you."
"True," Jack says. "You do need a hoist for that big dick of yours."
"No," Alma screams. Ennis throws Jack on the kitchen table.
"What are you waitin for?" Jack asks. "Grab on to it and stick it in!"
"No!" Alma wailed, leapin up. "No! No!"
"His cock is MINE!" Jack laughs as Ennis slips through his ring.