I swear-
munch munch
- on this hot dog -
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- that I own Harry Potter -
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- But what you don't know -
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- is that I'm not eating a hot -
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- dog. I'm eating -
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- a fried hedgehog -
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- which makes the above statement null and -
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- void. I don't actually -
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- own Harry Potter -
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- so please don't -
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- sue me -
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- because my -
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- swear didn't count -
Hey, my fried hedgehog is gone! I was eating that! Where'd it go!
Hey, my stomach looks pretty suspicious...
Mr. Stomach, where were you 5 seconds ago?
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Oh, not answering me? I'll get you to squeal. We have torture devices for stomachs, you know.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Still not talking? This is the whole problem with interrogating stomachs. They never talk!
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Well, we'll just have to lock my stomach up for the night.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Wow. That's another feature of stomachs. They show no emotion.
Weird.
Anyway, where was I?
In the middle of a disclaimer?
Well too bad, I'm too lazy to finish it.
Goodbye, sir/ma'am.
Have a nice day!
:)
"Hot dogs! Get your fresh hot dogs!" cried Voldemort from his portable hot dog stand.
Harry was interested in this. Had he heard right – that there were hot dogs to be eaten? He went in line and waited patiently.
Finally. It was his turn. It felt like hours, but it had been, in fact, 528 days.
He got in front of the stand and opened his mouth when...
"We're all out! Sorry!"
Harry frowned. "Wait, what'd you say?"
"I said that we're all out of hot dogs. You'll have to come back tomorrow."
"I don't understand."
"Look, I don't know who you are or what you want, but I AIN'T GOT NO WEENERS ANYMORE!"
Harry was really annoyed.
"I am the Chosen One! And I want a hot dog! Now! You're getting me angry! You won't like me when I'm angry!"
"And I'm the Dark Lord! What could possibly scare the Dark Lord?"
Harry snapped his fingers. A barrage of blue elephants, mountain bikes, and people named John ran at Voldemort, smacking him into the ground. Unfortunately, some of the blue elephants spotted Cornelius Fudge's bowler hat, and they ran screaming at him and stole the hat.
Voldemort's face went red, or maybe that was just the blood. "See what you started? Now that they have the hat, the bisons will get involved, and then the wooly mammoths will come back from the Ice Age! And then -"
He dramatically looked at a non-existent camera.
"The tacos will come."
He had the full attention of the innocent bystanders on the street now. They were all staring at him like he had gone crazy.
Harry took advantage of the pause and picked up where Voldemort left off: "But we can stop this. All you need to do is donate one hot dog, and the world will not be thrown into chaos. All we need to do-"
Then he noticed that Voldemort had gotten back up, and now the stand was not a hot dog stand anymore. It's banner read "ANGRY MOB DEPOT" and Voldemort was yelling, "Everyone, come get the crazy kid! Get your pitchforks and torches here! Only 1 Galleon apiece!"
Don't you love magic? It's the only thing in the world that can turn a hot dog stand into an angry mob stand in seconds.
The crowd seemed to think that Voldemort was very smart, but Harry yelled "WAIT!"
He immediately went up to the stand and asked, "May I buy a pitchfork and torch, please?"
Voldemort was confused, but he complied. Harry handed over his 2 Galleons and started stabbing himself with the pitchfork and lighting his hair on fire.
"Hey!" somebody yelled. "That kid's more crazy than Charlie Sheen! I'd pay to see him do this all day long!"
"Yes," said Harry, "I will continue doing this. My price is one hot dog per stab." Turning to Voldemort, he shrugged and added, "It pays."
But the spell broke. Nobody was willing to give up a hot dog for anything. But now Voldemort's business was over.
"I'm telling you! You need to give me a hot dog! Only with the hot dog can we sign the peace treaty with the tacos! PLEASE, I beg of you!"
But nobody listened until the giant King Taco finally appeared. And he was not happy.
"Why is this boy not receiving his hot dog? I've been waiting 100 years for this, and – wait, who's eating my butt?"
The crowd, who were starting to get slightly insane, started eating the taco. Voldemort slapped Harry in the face. Harry was really angry now. He reached over to Voldemort's face...
"Got your nose!"
Voldemort scoffed. "Harry, you're not fooling me. I know my nose is right..." Then he realized his nose wasn't there.
"HEY! Give me back my nose! I command you! Give it back!"
"Give me my hot dog!"
"My nose!"
"My hot dog!"
"My nose!"
"My hot dog!"
"My nose!"
"My hot dog!"
"Will you two ladies break it up?" screamed the King Taco. "In case you haven't noticed, the king of tacos is DYING over here!"
Voldemort looked at Harry. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"What are you thinking?"
"I was thinking that we should get married."
"I'm just going to walk away slowly now..." started Harry. But he lied. He ran away quickly. But Voldemort got there first.
Got where, you ask?
To the taco, of course. There's a giant taco out there. I would eat it myself. I'm so glad Harry and Voldemort finally agreed on something. After that, they became best friends.
Then they got married.
O_O