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!!
