Disclaimer: Don't own Potter. Never have, never will.

So don't sue me, cuz I can't pay the bill.

A/N: Just a little piece I wrote in between 4 and 6 am one day. I also thought up some poems about old hamsters in a cage that said chick chittery chick chick chick chick chittery chin (as well as a poem about a pirate with mal de mer). Hmmm...I've really got to get to bed earlier.

Potter, you Pothead

you're spatially zoned--

You know a house elf named Dooby

and the Sorcerer's Stoned.

Your Chamberpot of Secretions

has quite overflowed,

and with Hors as the crux of your problem

you're blowed!

You've seen Snape in his panties

upside down in the air...

If that doesn't scare you,

you're not likely to scare!

And then you've got Voldy, that moldy old man

What is he now? Like, six hundred and ten?!

If that's not enough, you've got Nineteen Years Later

where you have children with Ginny, you bloody fag traitor!

Don't you know that in fanfiction

you're gaily submissive?

With that many fans,

you can't be dismissive.

(Did I mention with Snape and Draco

you're equally permissive?)

There's one thing I know that's never in doubt--

you're much better in fanfics

than the books turned you out!!