Hey all! We're back again. After a long break, because we're mean terrible procrastinators who obviously want to ruin both your life and your patience, we're back in action. My drabble will be bolded, so enjoy this edited version of "Imma Wiserd". This is our third reader request, and I would like to thank Megan Hermione Lovegood for this deliciously horrendous story. Let's begin, shall we?

AN: After reading the Harry Potter books, (not really, I saw the movies, lol) I decided to make my own Harry Potter story.

Well, it is nice having someone admit that they've only seen the movies. I myself still haven't finished Order of the Pheonix. *listens to horrified gasps* And to think we started this whole thing off with a Harry Potter fanfic...

Edited Out: lolololol. Because one just isn't enough.

Note to the Readers: Never believe anyone who says that a black man doesn't like fried chicken.

After debating with myself on whether or not to leave this as it is, or mash it into the authors note, I decided to stay as true as possible. Any implosions, migraines, or impending headaches aren't my fault. Also, you should give me free chocolate, and lots of money. And the above sentence is sort of absolutely racist. And it failed to account for black woman's tastes.

I was sitting out on the porch when my mamma leaned out of the window. She said, "What are you doing *soulja spirit buu jackson?*

Possibilities for the above sentence:

1. "Sold your spirit Buu Jackson?"

2. "Sold your spirit boy, Jackson?"

3. "Soldier spirit boy Jackson?" Maybe a dead soldier boy named Jackson is coming over for dinner?

"Nothing much," I said. "We don't have any food."

I guess no one is coming over for dinner then. That would be a very sad dinner party.

"Oh Turtle, don't cry."

Don't worry nondescript mother, he's not crying. Also, that's either a terrible name or a cute nickname. Either way, I'm not sure how I feel about it.

"No mamma, I'm not mad," I said.

I believe she was referring to sadness and not anger, but either way, we're glad that you're totally fine with being a poor, starving kid. Also, if you're not bothered by not having any food, why bring it up in random conversation? Are you trying to make your mother feel bad or something?

Then I looked at the ground and said, "I wish that I had some fried chicken."

A reasonable wish, considering that you're starving. But the note that the author so kindly left us points to this as a racial stereotype, and as a sort of moral person, I must politely disagree.

Then... Then there was fried chicken on the ground!

Edited Out: fourteen exclamation marks. Because one just isn't enough. Shouldn't there be a plate or something too? Don't you think this might be unsanitary?

"Yum. But what's that I smell?" my mamma said.

Probably fried chicken. She's still leaning out the window right?

I looked around sneakily and whispered, "fried chicken." Then it vanished.

Clearly this poor, starving boy isn't nearly as poor or as starving as we were previously led to believe.

I was scared, but not in an afraid sort of way.

Ah, the calm fear then. Yes, that happened to me once. Turned out I was dreaming.

Then I whispered, "fried chicken," again. It appeared again! So then I decided to try something out. I said, "watermelon." There it was, a big old slice of watermelon at my feet. My mamma leaned out the door again.

I thought that she was leaning out the window the first time? Isn't this the first time she's leaning out the door? Also, why is she leaning? Just step outside and get it over with.

"Boy, now I know I smell something," she said.

Is she blind? No seriously, is she? I feel like I'm missing something here.

So then I leaned over and whispered, "fried chicken and watermelon." They both vanished. I got up and said, "look mamma! I don't have nothing!"

Technically you do have nothing. You got rid of the food remember? Also, just feed your hungry mother for Chr*st sake!

"But I'm so hungry," my mamma said. I felt sad.

Obviously, you should have showed her the food, you selfish d*ck.

I pointed my finger at the ground and said, "fried chicken."

Then a big, old bunch of fried chicken appeared.

I know that your powers are new. I'm sure that you're still working things out. But can't you get some new food? Don't feed her moldy stuff. That's just mean.

My mamma jumped and screamed.

Evidently she's shocked at the large amount of food that her son has just given her. I love happy endings.

She ran inside and slammed the door.

Getting plates?

"Don't come back or I'll shoot you!" she said.

Why? Evidently this poor, starving mother isn't nearly as poor or as starving as we were previously led to believe.

So I left.

Two sentences made it go so wrong! How? Why? Gah! Scr*w this sh*t! I'm off again!

AN: So what do you think? If you flame, then you're racist.

Edited Out: CAPS RAGE!