"Now, you are going to do some lines for me, . No, not with your quill. You are going to use a special one of mine." -Umbitch said sweetly.
She handed him a long, black quill with a sharp tip. "I want you to write 'Twilight is good literature' " She told him softly.
A Hot, swooping, feeling of nausea swam through Harry's stomach as choked out "How many times?"
"As long as it takes for the message to sink in," Umbitch said sweetly. "Off you go." When Harry started writing, he noticed that there was no ink in the quill. "There's no ink." Harry said.
"Oh, you won't need any ink." Umbitch replied.
Harry started to write, "Twilight is good literature" and he shivered, trying to keep the Steak-and-Kidney pie he ate for dinner in him.
His hand was being sliced open and the words were etched onto Harry's right hand. Umbitch smiled sinisterly, and as Harry's hand healed, she leaned in and giggled.
Umbitch is the only person horrible enough to be impervious to Twi-Shit. Harry wrote more lines but his gag-reflex took over and he puked on Umbitch's pink Cardigan and Twi-shit(Twilight) book.
She screamed in shock and tossed the Steak-and-kidney-vomit covered book aside. Harry, still green in the face retched again; and Umbitch, who didn't look where she was going, slipped on the pool of sick and Harry let out a weak chuckle.
Umbitch who was covered in shit looked at the time and said, "Well , it looks like your detentions are done for the week. Get out of my sight you filthy half-blood!" Harry walked away, shaking with his hand almost healed, and went to lie down...