The Fat lady had had enough. She was sick of those "precocious, arrogant students" and their lack of respect toward paintings like herself. At least that's how she began her rant to Greta Catchlove on this particular Sunday Morning by the Grand Staircase.
"Just because I am the product of beauty and imagination whereas they are the product of science does not mean I don't deserve SLEEP!" The Fat Lady shook the paintings around her while sitting in Greta's portrait. Greta patiently waited for her to continue, knowing that if she tried to say something now it would just be cut off by the Fat Lady's spouting. The Fat Lady waited the appropriate amount of time, for her that is, and began her tale. It started with a password.
"Ad astra per asper"
"Go on in" It was another Saturday night, filled with opening and closing and opening and closing and so on. The students say the password, I let them in and then await the time when all of them are asleep and I can begin my vocal exercises. When it seemed as if all were in bed I filled the corridor with my lovely voice and soon fell asleep, for its exhausting being so talented. I do believe that it was around half past 2 in the morning when a clamor woke me up.
"Who goes there?" I bravely asked.
"There goes who?" mumbled the voice in the dark. The figure began moving towards me and I use the word moving lightly. It was more of a stumbling, and even that is giving more credit than deserved. The boy approached me and in the light of the dimming candle flame I noticed his sluggish movements in a more detailed sense.
"Could I," he then took a long drawn out breathe and finished, "please be let in?" not only was the the boys entire sentence slurred but his appearance was ragged.
"Password?"
"Caput Draponies." He proudly stated. I sighed,
"No, I'm afraid not, and if you could please stop that incessant whistling," the boy had begun taping his feet and making this ridiculous noise from his mouth that was most certainly no type of whistling I had ever heard before, "honestly people are trying to sleep, could you calm down?"
"TURN DOWN FOR WHAT!" The boy was shouting and from there it only became more unbearable, he begin gyrating and making this horrid tune that sounded like "doot da do doot" I believe it went on for 5 minutes until he gave up on that tune and moved on to more.
"So faaaat laaaady, if that even is your real name," here is where my eye rolling began and never stopped, "if that is not the password than is it…I CAME IN LIKE A WRECKING BAAAAALL!"
"Would you please lower your voice and sit down, as it is apparent that you will never remember the password."
"You, my darling, are merely envious of my talented singing voice and my," he gestured downwards, "incredible figure". I cannot stress enough that in his head I'm sure the young boy thought himself suave and yet out loud he sounded like a tired child who had clearly never heard me sing.
Thankfully, his constant murmuring tired him out at around 4 in the morning. It gave me the most brilliant sense of satisfaction to witness him woken up at around 7 by students rushing to and fro and to suddenly jerk foreword and hold his head, as if Voldemort himself had risen from the grave. The young student slowly rose, shaking his blonde head as if every decision made, just a few hours earlier, were the worst of his life. I was most pleased, most pleased with it indeed.
