Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived... in a cupboard) and the Stoned Philosopher:

If we're writing our own stories, does that mean we're all Mary Sues?

Chapter one- Goals


In the beginning, once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, on a dark and stormy night, there lived a boy… no, there was a Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard... on a shelf. No, that's not right. It wasn't actually a boy, it was an elf but we're taking some literary liberties for comedic effect. Also there were thousands of these house-elves on shelves, creepy little doll-like things who spied on kids and reported their behavior to their boss who was obsessed with affecting the behavior of children through a poorly-defined and haphazardly-executed system of punishment and rewards. (Seriously, how do you define 'nice' or 'naughty' and why does getting a free source of heat and light in the middle of winter count as a punishment?) This boss was very old, far too clever for his own good (or the good of anyone else) and had a long white beard and Gimlet eyes… in a jar… on his desk. His own eyes twinkled far too much for anyone to feel comfortable around him.

Gimlet was, of course, the famous dwarf who helped Harry… I mean… who helped a Hairy Footer destroy an evil ring designed by the famous and infamous tiny wizard 'Ding' who was famous for being the smallest wizard-smith in known history and infamous for littering his workshop with trapdoors designed to drop everyone taller than him down to his eye level and then surprise them with vaguely worded accusatory questions like: "where were you last night?" and "who was the wench that Goody Shoemaker saw you with?" But even though Gimlet was instrumental in ridding the world of the dreaded 'Wee Ding's Ring," the only thing anyone ever remembered about him was his thousand-yard stare. Can you imagine that? You spend years training in the arts of stealth and combat then you work your stubby little butt off protecting a Hairy Footer as he carries the most evil plot device ever invented across the most detailed world ever described in a book in order to create a fertile field of imagination where generations of authors gather to steal… I mean develop… story ideas and social commentary and the only thing anyone ever mentions about you is your eyes and the fact that some crazy old coot with a long beard has them in a jar on his desk.

It really doesn't make it any cooler to know that the desk was in a drafty old castle somewhere in the far north and that the old man with the long white beard and discomforting twinkly eyes had a funny name. He had an unfunny name too, but no one ever remembered it which is odd because he wrote it down every chance he got, usually on the bottom of one of his reports about random rewards and punishments and their inconsistent effect on the behavior of children around the world. And he wrote a lot of reports about the inconsistent effects of random rewards and punishments on the behavior of children. Like the one he was writing right now about a boy who lived in a cupboard.. but not the boy (who was really an elf) who lived… in a cupboard… on a shelf… spying for him. This report was about Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) and he didn't know anything about the history of literature or his place in it. Also, he thought that gimlets were small tools with a screw point, a grooved shank and a cross handle used for boring holes.

He was right. That's exactly what a gimlet was. And he knew this because his uncle worked for a drill manufacturer and knew all about boring, though, what had happened to piss off the handles remained a mystery. You could probably say that there was no one more 'about boring' than Harry's uncle, Vernon. Boring was his life. He strived for it at work and at home. When anything happened that wasn't boring, he got very upset. For instance, one time Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) saw a motorcycle fly by their car, (not in the air, because everyone knows motorcycles don't fly, just going very fast) and commented about how incredibly un-boring it was. Harry's uncle, Vernon, got so upset that his entire face turned red, like a time-lapse movie of a tomato ripening. Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) thought this was the most un-boring thing he'd ever seen. (He had led a very sheltered and boring life.) Even more un-boring than a motorcycle going very fast along the ground, but probably not as un-boring as a motorcycle flying through the air which Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) couldn't even begin to imagine because his bits that would normally be used for imagining things like that had been dedicated to boring for so long that they didn't know the drill for being un-boring. So Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) made it his goal to say something that would make Harry's uncle, Vernon, turn red like a time-lapse movie of a tomato ripening, every day.

It wasn't much of a hobby, but when your life is as boring as Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard)'s, your excitement meter pegs easily. He was quite content to live with that level of excitement until the day of his eleventh birthday when he went to the grocery store with his aunt, Petunia, and saw the most un-boring thing that anyone had ever seen in the history of ever! A Great Grey Owl swooped into the grocery store with a raucous, piercing cry. It zoomed past Harry's head, landed in the vegetable bin and fixed him with a piercing stare. As the owl's gimlet eyes bored into him, Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) suddenly realized why the stare and the tool had the same name. Though he was still a little confused about the dwarf. He made a mental note to follow up on the words 'spathic,' 'gnostic,' and 'spleen' later and do more research before he used remunerated words in the future. The sight in front of him was so un-boring that it took his brain several minutes to realize he wasn't dreaming. He grabbed his aunt, Petunia, by her sleeve and tugged at it repeatedly. With his other hand he pointed at the amazing thing in front of him and, after several attempts, managed to croak out, "What is that?"

Harry's aunt, Petunia, was very perturbed and not exclusively because the author had completely misused the word 'remunerate' in a previous paragraph, though it was a contributing factor. The main source of her perturbitude was that she was very fond of boring. Her fondness for boring was the reason she'd married Harry's uncle, Vernon, in the first place. Unfortunately for her, they had never discussed the definition of the word and she had been so disappointed on her honeymoon that it had soured her for life. Now she stood in a grocery store in a situation where the only thing boring about it was the owl's gaze at her nephew and an author was not content to misuse existing words, he was now making them up. She sniffed, disdainfully, and with several haughty extra 'aitches' said "H-it's H-an H-ow-ell." She felt a bit of additional satisfaction at having added the extra syllable to 'owl,' and allowed herself a momentary, thin-lipped smirk.

Harry pursed his lips and looked at her as though she had grown a second head. "NO!" he yelled. "UNDER the owl."

Harry's aunt, Petunia, was slightly taken aback by his tone. She was disappointed that her pompous 'aitches' and the extra syllable she had used in 'owl' hadn't even fazed the boy, but she dutifully looked underneath the owl and tried once more. "Th-H-at's H-an H-envelow-peh." She regretted the extra syllable she'd added to envelope almost immediately but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) threw his hands in the air like he cared very much and no one else in the room was paying any attention to what was truly important. "UNDER THE ENVELOPE!" He screamed.

Harry's aunt, Petunia, was acutely aware that his antics were drawing attention. She was also slightly embarrassed by her recent failure at pompousity and very angry at the author for making up another word. Also, the presence of all the suggestively shaped produce had made her very much aware that she was far away from boring and that she was getting further away from boring every year and that there was a possibility that she wouldn't be anywhere near boring at any time in the future. This upset her enough that she forgot to add any syllables or 'aitches' to her next sentence. "That's an eggplant."

"An eggplant," her nephew marveled. He reached for it reverently, completely ignoring the giant owl which was trying to shove the H-envelow-peh in his face. He picked up the dark purple fruit and stared at it in wonder. Then Harry Potter (The Boy Who Lived… in a cupboard) raised the eggplant over his head, met the owl's Gimlet eyes and declared, "I've got a new goal!"


Next time- Some speculation about eggplants, a decision on the color of our favorite bad boy's hair and David Tennant makes a guest appearance three books early.