Note: Canon Divergence
Journal,
How much do you think that a person could handle in a week? Scratch that. How much do you think that a person should handle in a week? Honestly. I really want to know. Nothing that's transpired for me this week has been for the better. Anyone who says otherwise can kiss my shiny broomstick.
Monday, Katie took me to this Muggle food place that served Asian cuisine. I'm a sucker for new things cooked with noodles, so I was all for it. I couldn't pronounce everything on the menu exactly, but I didn't think that'd be a problem. Until I was given my dish. I asked for noodles, not soup! It broke my heart because Katie only laughed at my misfortune. I begrudgingly ate the soup, which tasted like piss all, and then received noodles. How dare you! Now that my stomach is ready to Avada my arse, you bring noodles? It was then I found out that I only received the appetizer before the meal. I gave Katie a look so evil I could feel it.
Now that my appetite was ruined, we got those little cookies with the messages in them. I had this small bit of anticipation that I'd get this inspiring, hopeful message that would get me through the rest of the week. I opened the damn thing and it said:
'You will die on the mountains in the states.'
I'm incredibly offended and disappointed by this cookie, and I didn't even believe in Divination.
Tuesday was a boring day for me. I didn't do anything eventful during Quidditch practice, and all I did when I got back to my flat was sleep on the couch. It was my only day of solace, ironically.
Wednesday was dreadful. When I say dreadful, I mean I was ready to spell myself upside down, wait for the blood to rush to my face, then cry. During practice, it rained. Normally, that doesn't bother me in the slightest, but today I slipped from my broom while making a goal. It went from the most beautiful play to the most ugliest falls. Why? Because I was hanging from the broom by one hand and my hair. Don't ask me how it's possible, but it's bloody possible.
I was starting to think that the fortune cookie put a bloody jinx on me.
Thursday, my Sherlock marathon that I had been anticipating for a month was canceled due to some Ministry conference from the Minister of Magic, and that was the only channel it was scheduled for! I hate the day magic incorporated itself into television. Specifically, I hate the day magic incorporated itself into my television. I know that I could easily find it on one of the Muggle tellies, but now I'll have to catch up, so I'm majorly peeved.
I don't even want to write about yesterday, Journal. Katie tried to pry me from the flat under the guise of going out and having fun. After missing part of my marathon yesterday, I figured that I could attempt to get some kind of fun this week.
The pub we were going to had a promotional sign that said, 'Free Butterbeer' in large letters. That was perfect for me because I didn't have any galleons on me. Yes, I'm a cheap witch. Sue me.
Anyway, I went inside, ready to get a few cups of free butterbeer, only to be told that it was not free and that I should read the sign more carefully. Upon further inspection, it does say 'Free Butterbeer' in large letters, but there were a few smaller words in between those words. The entire thing said, 'Free water. New Butterbeer flavors'.
First of all, why isn't water free to begin with? Second of all, the new butterbeer was disgusting. I love Katie for buying it for me, I'd marry her if she wasn't dating George, but she could have kept her money.
Add insult to injury, a fight broke out not too far from us at the bar counter, and take a wild guess who was drenched in the butterbeer they just thought was disgusting. That's right, Journal, your girl Alicia was sporting a putrid butterbeer fragrance for half an hour until I could Scorgify myself.
I'm writing in you this morning in case something happens to me today. That way, someone would know my story in case I made a one-way trip to Azkaban. This week was full of so much rubbish, I'd rather sit in class with Snape again. All. Day.
Anyway, I've got Quidditch practice to get to.
Officially Disappointed in Life,
Alicia.
A/N: Written for HSWW (Challenges and Assignments)
Assignment #2 Folklore Task 7: write about someone who is disappointed
Word Count: 772