Cute Dangerous Animals
06-02-2006, 23:37
OK, I've got a huge bout of insomnia going on right now. There is only one solution ... STORY TIME.
I will write the first para of a Harry Potter Parody. Somebody else will write the next. Somebody else the next. And so on and so on. Now I remember an old philosophical saying about infinite monkeys typing and writing Hamlet. I assume (but don't know for sure) that we are better writers than monkeys. Let us have no sarcastic,negative,encouraging,pointless comments. We're after a nice, smooooth narrative, so every para should flow on from the last, ok? Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin ...
[TITLE] Harry Potter and the Infinite Ramblings
[Wordcount] to be determined
[by] Cute Dangerous Animals et al:)
[TEXT BEGINS]
Harry, Hermione and Ron were sprawled on the floor. It had been many years since Harry had passed through the portals of Hogwarts and he reflected on this while taking a big toke of a nice, fat spliff.
"Harry, your hogging that," exclaimed Hermione, self-righteously.
"Yeah, that's, like, right, pass it over," drawled Ron.
"Wha?" asked Harry. He had forgotten what was going on.
"The SPLIFF," shrieked Hermione, annoyingly. "Spliffo Levioso!" she cried and the spliff levitated through the air to come to rest between Hermione's lips, now plump and red. Hermione had done a lot of growing up over the years.
"Gimme some," cried Ron.
"No," said Hermione sternly, "you can't have any until you cough up some Galleons. We tolerated it when you were a child, but you can't sponge off everyone else for the rest of your life. Don't you agree Harry?"
"Wha?" said Harry, as he rolled his bloodshot eyes to Hermione. He had forgotten what was happening again.
"You can talk, you self-righteous, smug cow," cried Ron, wounded. "I know you've been borrowing money to fund your shoe-shopping habits! And I know that you're broke too! So go and get your own money and get your own weed!" he shouted and made a grab for the spliff. Unfortunately, his co-ordination was not what it could be, and he missed, knocking foul-smelling bong water all over the floor. Harry giggled, and opened a pack of chocolate cookies.
"Damn you Ron!" screamed Hermione, for the bong water had spilled all over her nice new, expensive, suede boots. "They're ruined!" She disapparated.
"Hah! that got rid of her," giggled Ron.
"Wha?" said Harry. For he had forgotten what was happening again.
***
Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, tears were trickling down Hermione's perfectly sculpted cheekbones. The poor little girl was sobbing her little heart out. Why couldn't Ron see that she only bought all these beautiful, expensive things to make him like her? She had tried being nice, but he didn't notice. She had tried being bad, but he didn't notice. Tonite, she had tried being one of the boys, but he didn't notice. And now her beautiful swede boots were ruined! Thinking of her boots, brought a cold chill to Hermione's passionate heart. They had cost a great many galleons and now her little piggy bank looked poorly. And she needed some more clothes! She only had 462 dresses, 237 pairs of shoes, a mega-assortment of T-shirts, boob-tubes, trouses, and jumpers. "My," she thought, "I have absolutely nothing to wear! That is it! I must have some more money to by shoes." But for a broke, beautiful Hogwarts resident there was only one way to get cash without compromising her studies. "I'm going on the game!" [becoming a hooker - CDA] she declared. "If it's good enough for McGonnagall, it's good enough for me!"
[TEXT ENDS]
Over to you chaps (& chap-ettes, of course).
I will write the first para of a Harry Potter Parody. Somebody else will write the next. Somebody else the next. And so on and so on. Now I remember an old philosophical saying about infinite monkeys typing and writing Hamlet. I assume (but don't know for sure) that we are better writers than monkeys. Let us have no sarcastic,negative,encouraging,pointless comments. We're after a nice, smooooth narrative, so every para should flow on from the last, ok? Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin ...
[TITLE] Harry Potter and the Infinite Ramblings
[Wordcount] to be determined
[by] Cute Dangerous Animals et al:)
[TEXT BEGINS]
Harry, Hermione and Ron were sprawled on the floor. It had been many years since Harry had passed through the portals of Hogwarts and he reflected on this while taking a big toke of a nice, fat spliff.
"Harry, your hogging that," exclaimed Hermione, self-righteously.
"Yeah, that's, like, right, pass it over," drawled Ron.
"Wha?" asked Harry. He had forgotten what was going on.
"The SPLIFF," shrieked Hermione, annoyingly. "Spliffo Levioso!" she cried and the spliff levitated through the air to come to rest between Hermione's lips, now plump and red. Hermione had done a lot of growing up over the years.
"Gimme some," cried Ron.
"No," said Hermione sternly, "you can't have any until you cough up some Galleons. We tolerated it when you were a child, but you can't sponge off everyone else for the rest of your life. Don't you agree Harry?"
"Wha?" said Harry, as he rolled his bloodshot eyes to Hermione. He had forgotten what was happening again.
"You can talk, you self-righteous, smug cow," cried Ron, wounded. "I know you've been borrowing money to fund your shoe-shopping habits! And I know that you're broke too! So go and get your own money and get your own weed!" he shouted and made a grab for the spliff. Unfortunately, his co-ordination was not what it could be, and he missed, knocking foul-smelling bong water all over the floor. Harry giggled, and opened a pack of chocolate cookies.
"Damn you Ron!" screamed Hermione, for the bong water had spilled all over her nice new, expensive, suede boots. "They're ruined!" She disapparated.
"Hah! that got rid of her," giggled Ron.
"Wha?" said Harry. For he had forgotten what was happening again.
***
Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, tears were trickling down Hermione's perfectly sculpted cheekbones. The poor little girl was sobbing her little heart out. Why couldn't Ron see that she only bought all these beautiful, expensive things to make him like her? She had tried being nice, but he didn't notice. She had tried being bad, but he didn't notice. Tonite, she had tried being one of the boys, but he didn't notice. And now her beautiful swede boots were ruined! Thinking of her boots, brought a cold chill to Hermione's passionate heart. They had cost a great many galleons and now her little piggy bank looked poorly. And she needed some more clothes! She only had 462 dresses, 237 pairs of shoes, a mega-assortment of T-shirts, boob-tubes, trouses, and jumpers. "My," she thought, "I have absolutely nothing to wear! That is it! I must have some more money to by shoes." But for a broke, beautiful Hogwarts resident there was only one way to get cash without compromising her studies. "I'm going on the game!" [becoming a hooker - CDA] she declared. "If it's good enough for McGonnagall, it's good enough for me!"
[TEXT ENDS]
Over to you chaps (& chap-ettes, of course).