Here's something I once came up with:
Frodo the Ring Bearer, by Joss Whedon
“It’s part of an ancient poem,” Gandalf said. “Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, seven…”
Frodo interrupted him. “Not very good presents there.”
“What?”
“Rings for elven kings. I mean, they’re kings. They’ve got crowns, and scepters, and orbs; all that regatta stuff.”
“Um, that’s regalia. A regatta is a yacht race.”
“They’re kings, they can have yachts too. But anyway, if they’ve already got all this regalia stuff, what are they gonna do with rings? Just toss them on a pile in some treasure room somewhere.”
“Frodo, can I please continue?” Gandalf asked.
“Fine, go ahead.”
“Three rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone…”
“Now I’m definitely sensing a lack of imagination in the gift-giving department,” Frodo interrupted.
Gandalf ignored this and continued. “Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die…”
“Now THAT’S a sucky present. You’re lying there dying, and what do you get? A ring? So you can look good for the undertaker?”
“Frodo, they died because of the nine rings. Those men became the Nazgul, evil ring-wraiths who do Sauron’s bidding.”
“And that makes it a LESS sucky present?”
Gandalf just ignored this. “One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne, in the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In…”
“Wait a minute,” Frodo interrupted. “THIS is that one ring?”
“Yes, it is,” Gandalf replied.
“Oh yuck! Some guy’s got a fetish for dark rooms and bondage games, and I’ve been walking around with his favorite toy in my pocket?!”
“Frodo, the dark lord Sauron isn’t just ‘some guy’. He’s the embodiment of evil.”
“And here I thought he was called the dark lord because of his great tan.”
“Much of Sauron’s power was placed in this ring. It must be destroyed.”
“But why do I have to do it?” Frodo complained. “For once, can’t I just be a normal hobbit, smoking pipeweed and eating as many lunches as possible?”
“You’re the one who has to do it,” Gandalf answered, “because you’re the Chosen One, the one hobbit in...”
“...the one hobbit in all Middle Earth with the will to carry the Ring, yadda yadda, I know.”
Just then, Sam Gamgee entered. “What’s up, Frodo?” he asked.
“We’ve gotta go fight our way past all of Sauron’s orcs and monsters, to throw this ring into the Crack of Doom,” Frodo replied.
“Well, that’s not something you do every day,” Sam said. “Unless you’re US. So, where is this Crack of Doom?”
“Deep in the land of Mordor,” Gandalf answered.
“Where the shadows lie,” Frodo added.
“Lie about what?” Sam asked. “About whether they’re shadows? ‘Hi, I’m not a shadow, I’m a pool of oil’”
“Maybe they lie about what they’re shadows of,” Frodo suggested. "You know, like making a bunny with the shadows of your fingers.” He turned to Gandalf, puzzled. “But wouldn’t wearing all those rings get in the way of doing that?”
Gandalf just shook his head. “Okay, Middle Earth is doomed,” he said ruefully.