This is what happens when one eats too many Pringles and has a Harry Potter marathon concurrently. Please don't judge us. In fact, do judge us. Leave a review and let us know your Pringle adventures and hijinks! (And if Pringles does fancy sponsoring us or sending us some free samples after this then hey, we're not gonna object!)
…but not ready salted…
The toast hit the floor with a moist 'thhp' noise in a manner that was not nearly as exciting as the occupants of the kitchen had expected. And there did it remain. Much to the ire of one Remus Lupin who had been interrupted from setting the table for breakfast by the sound of shenanigans. It would not have been such a bother had his three friends not already managed to erode their way through two thirds of a loaf just this morning alone. Or if they had bothered to pick up said two thirds of a loaf from the kitchen tiles.
"Well. I think we can conclude that, in light of recent evidence, muggle toast (that is to say, toast derived from that strange contraption on the counter over there) is, in fact, prone – almost on every occasion – to land butter-side down," James summarised with a lopsided grin, sliding a slice across the floor with his borrowed-slipper-clad foot.
"I think you're right, Prongs," Sirius agreed easily, slumping down onto one of the chairs, the wood screeching on the tiles. "But - do you suppose it would work equally well spread with that low fat crap that Moony's mum loves so much?"
"Or what about jam?" the final member of the group piped up, gnawing on one of the surviving slices.
"Shut up, Wormtail!" Both James and Sirius chorused, as the former inserted another round of bread into the toaster, looking immensely pleased with himself that he'd finally got the hang of it.
"Aw – what do ya think'd happen if we spread it on both sides?"
"Yeah! And we could even put it around all the crusts and—"
Remus slammed his now regrettably empty coffee mug down on the table with a tired sigh and a half-arsed glare directed at Sirius – it was far too early to be dealing with his friends' 'experiments' and there wasn't enough caffeine in Britain. "Here's a crazy idea, why not try eating some of the toast? Or at least picking some of it up off the floor."
"Oh, urm, yeah, yeah Peter'll do it in a minute we'll just… Hey, what's this?" James, who had been ferreting through the cereal cupboard, pulled several cardboard cylinders out, looking at them in reverence. "You know Moony, you should probably hold an intervention for your mum if she's taken to keeping hard liquor in the breakfast cupboard."
"What? Prongs, I hardly expect that my mum's keeping alco – oh for—James, those are Pringles, not whisky."
"What's that there, Padfoot? Moony's mum having problems with the old drink abuse? Merlin, Remus, she's probably just missing you – you know, you should write home more often." Sirius placed a 'comforting' hand on his friend's shoulder.
Remus quickly shoved him off, sending a scathing glare at the pair of them though there was no real heat to it and was soon replaced by a resigned grimace.
"It's okay, Moony: I caught my mum pouring port on her shredded wheat the other week so I know what you're going through," Peter added solemnly, picking his way through the various buttered toast splats on the floor to join his friends at the table.
"Bloody Hell, you lot, my mum is not an alcoholic! Look, they're crisps, alright?" Standing abruptly, Remus fetched a bowl from the cupboard and proceeded to empty the contents of one of the tubes into it before thrusting it onto the table before a curious Peter, a suspicious Sirius and a cynical James who had made his way over to the others by this point, pulling up a chair.
"So… Not whisky?" Sirius prodded one with a scowl.
Remus chuckled at that and, deciding to lead by example, picked up a couple and placed them in his mouth to resemble a beak and made brief quacking noises. He then ate them hastily sliding the bowl towards his friends.
Sirius made the first move, tentatively plucking a pair of the crisps from the bowl and following suit and James, not to be outdone, quickly did the same though with much more gusto and buoyancy. Peter, glancing sideways at James copied the action, not wanting to be left out making a rather convincing duck noise causing Prongs and Padfoot to glare at the other boy.
Ten minutes time saw three empty tubes to join the toast graveyard that was the floor and four distinctly greasy teenagers sat slumped and happy at the kitchen table.
"Remus, my Remus, where did you get this divine ambrosia? We need to stockpile 'em and take 'em back with us in September!" Sirius proclaimed, bringing a tube up to his eye to double check that it really was empty.
"Well most muggle supermarkets will sell them and I've got a few pounds on me if you fancied going today?" Remus suggested.
"Yeah, good idea!" said James, "Wormtail, you've a muggle parent, right? You'll have plenty of muggle money for us to spend!"
"How soon can we go?" asked Sirius, rising from his chair and brushing the crumbs off himself and onto the abused floor.
"As soon as my kitchen is back to how you found it," Remus clipped wryly, sighing at length.
"I'd love to help you chaps out there, but look; I can't!" James shook his head ruefully holding up his tube-clad hands, "Practically disabled at this point so that means I don't have to do any chores or cleaning up or stuff."
Sirius grinned and Remus rolled his eyes while Peter was left to pick the toast up off the floor, wondering if it would still be good to eat anymore due to the fact that most of them were actually butter-side down.