Lilies: More Pricey Than Priceless
Guess what, chuckleheads? I'm baaaaaaack! Yay yay yay, et cetera. I won't bore you with my excuses as to why I am free to post again (it involves a Yugoslavian TV Salesmen and an underground mafia of giant-six-year olds), but I'm back. This is the sequel to Lilies: 50 Dollars A Piece and Lilies: Priceless.
-
I have decided I need a catchphrase.
Bart Simpson gets one, so why not me?
"James," I said loftily, poking his head with my pencil, "James, I need a catch phrase."
James, who had been lounging happily like the dog he is (Burn, baby, burn!!!!) next to me on the couch, stirred, and, angrily snarled, "Can't you just spout off strumpet every once in a while?"
Rude.
What a turd.
Yes, I've grown up.
No more long winded, eloquent insults.
You fresh-faced, prestine walnut-picking NINKIMPOOP!
I got you.
I got you good.
"Don't use that tone," I demmanded, "I may love you, but I can take it back."
That's a lie, but he doesn't know that.
James' head whipped around, and he said seriously, "Don't ever see that."
I kissed him quickly, to assure he didn't get all bitchy and go off in one of his, "MY GIRLFRIEND IS JUST, LIKE, SO INSENSITVE" spiels.
Can anyone say role reversal?
Hopefully you can.
Don't worry, I get the irony.
"Should it be Gadzooks?"
James threw me a, 'um, no' look, before pushing up his glasses and going back to sleep.
DAMN THOSE WIRE RIM GLASSES.
When we have childr-
...what?
What?
WHAT?
WHAT???
WHAT???!!!
WHAT JUST HAPPENED HERE?
I don't want children with this boy. I'm sixteen.
SIXTEEN.
Ugh, imagine a mini-potter. Being all...
Mini.
And Potter-esque.
It would be so adorabl-
Ugly.
It would be ugly and smelly and flatulant.
"I think I'll test out Oh My Strumpets," I said thoughtfully, before realizing I was in a common room FULL OF PEOPLE.
The really awful thing is, everything went really quiet just before I said it.
.. It really does happen in real life.
I cleared my throat.
Everyone turned back to what they were doing.
Back to this nonexistent, flatulant Potter-offspring.
Actually no, I don't want to talk about it.
I'll just have a little rest with Potter now, if you don't mind.
That's your cue to leave.
Seriously.
Bugger off.
-&-
So, I've been thinking about the Potter-and-I HYPOTHETICAL offspring...
It would be a boy, and I would call him Leo Edward.
After Leo Edwards of the movie Wizard Chess.
Sigh, he is such a dream boat.
Ew.
I just said Dream boat.
What am I, fifty?
So anyway, this Potter child would have my red hair and Potter's hazel eyes - BUT HE WOULD NOT WEAR GLASSES.
I would insist he wear contacts, and get some made that looked exactly like my eye colour, and voila, he would be my child and I could always say, "What? No, James isn't the father. Ugh."
... Now I think of it, the child'd just be cruel ito James like I am.
Oh, what fun we'd have, frolicking in meadows, and screaming at James in joint fury.
That'd be so fun.
Not that I want a kid...
...Yet.
I mean, ever.
Not that I want a kid ever. Because I don't. I hate children. They're vile and -
Oh my strumpets!
-&-
Apparently, there's a reason they put up those, 'Don't Go Here' signs. Idiots.
They could atleast put a little bit at the end that said, 'That means YOU, Lily.'
Or, they could put up a second sign further down the pathway saying, 'What didn't you understand about the first "Don't Go Here" sign? Christ, do you think we do it just to piss you off?! It's there for a reason, you jingoe.'
I mean, honestly.
How was I supposed to know that it was being cleaned by Sirius Black and his girlfriend of the moment, Satchel Cranberries.
Well, they were supposed to be cleaning, but let's just say they were doing something...
Dirty.
Something very unclean.
Some may even say it was 'Dirrrrrrty.'
Well, I know Xtina would, anyways.
Oh and just by the by, what the Hell does she mean with all this 'Xtina' nonsense, anyways?
Is she trying to be like Jesus, or Christmas with it's X-masability?
Because she has 'Christ' in her name?
Because I'm pretty sure Jesus dosen't like women like her stealing his gimic, even if they have been 'stripped'.
So, anyways, when I stopped in the hallway and saw the limbs a'flailing, I let out a big, involuntary, "DEAD PEARL OF GOD!"
To which Sirius replied, "I think you mean mother of God."
Satchel, from underneath him, added, "Yeah."
"Actually," I sneered, "I meant a strange combination of 'Dead Jesus Christ Superstar', 'Mother of Pearl' and 'By the pants of God'."
"Well can you make like a tree and get the Hell out of here, Satchel and I are getting busy, if you know what I mean."
I nearly barrelled back at the last bit, but that was mainly because Sirius sang it in the same way Danny Zuko did in Summer Loving.
You know?
The bit where he went, 'She was good, if ya know what I mean'?
Doesn't anyone watch Bad Seventies Movies anymore?
I suppose you're about to tell me you haven't even seen How Stella Got Her Groove Back Two.
Dead Jesus Christ Superstar, what are the teenagers today coming to?
-
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOD!" Cried Daria, screaming her way over to my bed, and flopping down onto it in apparent exhaustion from the exertion of her shreiking, "NARINDA ROMAN IS GOING TO GO AFTER YOUR BOYFRIEND. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!"
My ear drums burst repeatedly before I could even soak in the information.
...And when it did, I was flatulant -
Wait, that's a typo, I meant furious.
Damn Mad Libs, messing up my whole vocabulary.
"Tell me about this Narinda Roman," I said spitefully.
"She's, like, a fifth year Gryffindor. She's ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssoooooooooooooooooooo hot," Daria said, sighing, "James is going to, like, totally cheat on you with her and they'll get married and have, like, fifty babies and you'll end up, like, a crazy old cat lady twice divorced from two trees. You know, because, like, hippies marry trees because, like, no one else will because their smell is like OH MY GOD, so repugnant and-"
This is the thing about Daria.
She rambles.
You have to curb it otherwise before you know it, you'll be talking about gay whales.
"Okay, three things wrong with that," I said, putting my hand up to signify SILENCE, "One. Is it even possible for someone to have fifty babies? I mean, seriously? I mean, unless they adopt, it's just not going to happen. Two. I'm allergic to cats, so I can't become a cat lady. And Three, um, I hate the environment in general, so there is now way I would marry a tree. Ever. And, anyways, how the Hell would you consummate the relationship?" then I said, in a voice of deadly angry ice-T (like the rapper) calm, "But tell me about this presumably slutty and stupid Narina Roman."
Daria blinked at me.
I don't think she was even listening.
She drew in a breath and continued, "You are, like, so screwed, Lilly. Hunker down for a life of, like, totally unparrat... LOL, I almost said unparrotable... unparalleled lonlieness, because Narinda Roman be a lady tonight, and she's way prettier than you, and you are soooooooooooooooo screwed. You and James are going to divorce just like Brad and Jennifer and you're going to cry until you choke and then die and James'll feel bad, sure, but he'll be too enthralled with Narinda to care and no matter how many times you call her strumpet, or poison her food, James'll be all 'ooooh, I love you so much Narinda, your hair is totally blonde, whilst my chain and ball's is red, which is icky. ooooh my chain and ball's hair colour will be extinct in, like, a hundred years time. ooooh, let's have normal children. let's have fifty of them.'"
"James'd never talk like that," I said, but even I could hear the fear a'lurking within my voice.
"Yeah, maybe not," Daria agreed and then added, supposedly reassuringly, "But he would totally make you bite the kerb as he threw you to it so fast the door will hit your ass."
"That's it, no more Romantic Comedies for you," I said dissapprovingly, then, "But... I mean, James loves me. James loves me. James loves me. He wouldn't do that to me. He basically mauled me when I said I'd be his girlfriend."
"Yeah, mauled you. I saw the lovebites. They looked more like resentmentbites, if you know what I mean."
She sang the last bit in the same style as Danny Zuko too, but I was too scared to let it fully register.
I frowned, feeling kind of vulnerable, "So, what should I do, Daria?"
Daria hugged me with a tender, maternal look on her face and held me at arm's length and then said, "Put out, Lily. Put out as fast as you can."
-
I'm back. Yahooooo!... Christ, I've turned into an old lady. Anways, yes. I'm totally back. But not in black. In Navy, in fact... I'm in my school uniform. A lot's changed since I last posted, but I'll only talk about the most IMPORTANT thing. You know what I'm talking 'bout: The new Harry Potter book. What in the name of Dr Phil's fur bikini was going on there? (By the way, DON'T imagine Dr Phil's fur bikini, don't try to visualize it. It made me throw up). Lily was so... Normal. Which was a little bit of a let down. And the whole Snape thing, although cute, made me want to kick JK Rowling in the jowls. Oh well. Since I've been away so long, I presume all the people who orgionally posted reviews are dead, but I find it my civil duty to nonetheless to reply to their memory:
Arianna99: Oh you brave soldier. I heard you suffered until your last breath protecting the secret of my pumpkin pie recipe. Those Scandanavian Grannies tortured you until your last eye-lid-blink, but you refused to tell them. (Was that you? It might've been another Arianna?)
Angel718: Au Contraire, mon amie, excellentness is indeed a word. Well, not really, but you're dead anyways, so how much can lying to you hurt?
I love fred and george: I took your advice, comrade!
surfie-aussie-chick: Eveleen, yet again, you're scaring the customers, you damn muggle. And what the Hell do you mean, 'lacking whores???'
Rosie: Oh, was it?! Was it THE AWESOMENESS? WAS IT THE APEX OF AWESOMENESS? ANSWSER ME!!! ANSWER ME, CONSARN IT!
Greenmaiden: I'm glad you scared your family into hiding. It leaves me open to rob you raw.
miss-Kute-Kat: I would totally kick you in the knuckles. And not even think twice about it.
AchtungBabyAchtung: Scottish people, the weedy type, are only in your country because their own has kicked them out for not being man enough.
Addled.Brain: Ho ho, really! (By the way, I'm not calling you a Ho, I mean like 'Oh Oh' backwards) (Oh and I'm not Santa Claus either) (Or Slughorn).
Not your ordinary HP fan: I bet you're dead. From a falling Terrier to the head. Ho ho, that rhymes.Sparklingeyeswithacrazymind: TY Kai Baizz.Cd lover: My friend is a molester. Please help me.
Kyllien: -Circus music ends- -Vanilla Ice begins to play- OH MY GOD, IT'S MY THEME SONG!!!
Good to be back you fast-living polished cowbites, you
amen
XOX Trapped Rabbit