(We would like to make note that TWO people actually wrote this story, and when they thought up all the ideas, and even wrote, most of it, they recently had had two highly caffinated drinks, a box to nerds, a package of Sour Punch Straws, and Sour and Chewy Shocktarts. DON'T FORGET CHEWY!! All this sugar was consumed in a matter of about 12 minutes and 24 seconds. WOOO-WHO!)
"There was no more Harry Potter
The Legacy Has Died..."
And so predicted the prophet formally-known-as Ron's word...
Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter. We do not own the world. We would LIKE to own the world some day, but we would NOT like to own Harry Potter.
Notice: Yes, you hate us. But that's ok, we aren't too fond of you, either. ^^ Flame me!
The Spite that was Harry
An old-looking codger sits in a house full of smoke (you know what we mean). "The Prophet", as his withered mind liked to be called by the dead furry animal friends littered throughout the house among him. He sat cross-legged and smoking a piece pipe, trying to collect the thoughts of world's beyond him.
In-coherence was often muttered from the stringy beard of our peace-lovin', joint-smokin' Ron. Only the stuffed squirrel at his feet understood him. (Bilbo, I believed was the critter's name).
With sudden importance, the sway-by-the-wind Prophet sauntered his way over to the nearest port key, joint-in-hand, reaching for the nearest half-empty beer. Well, I guess it was beer... The Prophet often didn't feel like going all the way to the restroom. The Prophet's ways are very mysterious and often innate.
He stares blankly at the two objects in front of him: one a broken broom stick and the other a kidney stone from a dead cow (which, by the way, was in his backyard, "cooking"). Not remembering which lead to wear (for both were Port Keys), he reached down and touched the favored Kidney Stone.
The trip through the Port Key to the Ministry, where Harry Potter evidently worked, could be compared to the experiences Ron had with his many Peace Pipes.
When arriving at the lobby, the rather deteriorated Ron cried out all too loudly, "DUDE, THAT WAS AWESOME, MAAN!" Waving what we hoped was a beer, Ron looked over at a frightened person and leaning it, whispering at the level of a shout, "Do you know whore Harry Potter IIIIS?!"
Two wizards in black suits began 'escorting' 'The Prophet' out of the active lobby, with Ron screaming in a delirious confusion, "HARRY! HARRYYY! MAAAAN! HAAAARRY! I AM THE ******* PROPHET!! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MEH! HARRY!"
Lucky (I guess) for Harry (and 'The Prophet'), Mr. Potter was walking through the lobby door. He ordered the Ministry Thugs off Ron's poncho. Ron straightened his tiny, black sunglasses on the end of his nose, and tightened the strings around his ankles that held his plastic-bag 'shoes' in place. (More air-quotes! :D ) His braided ponytail was still askew.
"Uuuh, Ron, lookin' good... I.. guess..." The clean-looking Harry studied the 'beer' in Ron's hand and made a face.
"HARRY, MAN!" Ron said, waving his 'beer' stone-ed-ly, getting everything within a five-foot radius of the two wet. Ron's stench began rising off his poncho and filling the large room.
"Harry..." Ron looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was listening in while he 'whispered'. "Come closer." He waved his beer hand to the un-responsive Harry. iMy, what a God-awful strench.../i "HARRY! Yer... man... this is a bummer, dude, but, dude, yer gunna die... Dude. THE UNKNOWN FORCE TOLD ME THROUGH MY CRITTERS!"
"Uh, you still have those things, Ron?"
"Suuuuuuuure! Here's Hank's Kidney Stone!" Ron digs around in the main 'pockets' of his poncho. Harry starts backing away from the stinky prophet. "Oooh, look, a stowaway! Remember Bilbo, Harry?! He wanted to see you!" Ron jabs the stuffed dead animal in Harry's face. "SECURITY!! GET THIS SICK-O A BROOM SO HE CAN LEAVE!"
The two thugs come back and stick Ron on his borrowed broom. "Cya, Harry! And... oh... DUDE, yer gunna DIIIIIIIIIE-" the security men shut the large doors on Ron.
The foamy-figure of Ron appeared in a window, clawing feebly at the glass. "Yo Harry! What about Bilbo?! He'll be awful homesick. HARRY! HARRY!" 'The Prophet' was forced onto a broomstick and into the air by the security thugs (hmm... this is probably illegal, since Ron is under the influence of... several things... Not like anyone would care at this point. WOO!) After his short 'flight', he comes tumbling down. Just as he's about to hit the ground, he swerves upward.
"Uh, think it's alright for him to fly while he's inebriated?" said one thug to the other.
"Eh, not like anyone would care at this point." They went back into the building.
Serpentining along the buildings, Ron careens his way to where he thinks is the right direction. Ron's ends up impaled by the flagpole, jutting out the side of the ministry building.
Meanwhile, Harry walks up the stairs to his office. He glances out the window of his office and notices a bleeding Ron, reaching out his hands towards Bilbo, that somehow managed to end up on the windowsill, starring out at Ron. (ooo-SPOOKY!)
Harry cautiously closes the blind over both Bilbo and Ron, and sits down to work. Only after he heard the break of the flagpole, the thud, and the screams in the street did he bother to open the blinds again. And there was Bilbo, starrin' up at him!
Author's Note: Tune in next time, to hear the rest of the exciting adventures of Bilbo, Harry, and 'The Prophet'! :D Please review! Flames are encouraged (and, if you'd like, please spell horribly and have everything in caps lock so we can get the most amusement from your anger! And please use many exclamation points with ones, as shown below:
Ex: ARRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 I HAT UUUUUU!!!!11
Thank you! :D
... 1)
"There was no more Harry Potter
The Legacy Has Died..."
And so predicted the prophet formally-known-as Ron's word...
Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter. We do not own the world. We would LIKE to own the world some day, but we would NOT like to own Harry Potter.
Notice: Yes, you hate us. But that's ok, we aren't too fond of you, either. ^^ Flame me!
The Spite that was Harry
An old-looking codger sits in a house full of smoke (you know what we mean). "The Prophet", as his withered mind liked to be called by the dead furry animal friends littered throughout the house among him. He sat cross-legged and smoking a piece pipe, trying to collect the thoughts of world's beyond him.
In-coherence was often muttered from the stringy beard of our peace-lovin', joint-smokin' Ron. Only the stuffed squirrel at his feet understood him. (Bilbo, I believed was the critter's name).
With sudden importance, the sway-by-the-wind Prophet sauntered his way over to the nearest port key, joint-in-hand, reaching for the nearest half-empty beer. Well, I guess it was beer... The Prophet often didn't feel like going all the way to the restroom. The Prophet's ways are very mysterious and often innate.
He stares blankly at the two objects in front of him: one a broken broom stick and the other a kidney stone from a dead cow (which, by the way, was in his backyard, "cooking"). Not remembering which lead to wear (for both were Port Keys), he reached down and touched the favored Kidney Stone.
The trip through the Port Key to the Ministry, where Harry Potter evidently worked, could be compared to the experiences Ron had with his many Peace Pipes.
When arriving at the lobby, the rather deteriorated Ron cried out all too loudly, "DUDE, THAT WAS AWESOME, MAAN!" Waving what we hoped was a beer, Ron looked over at a frightened person and leaning it, whispering at the level of a shout, "Do you know whore Harry Potter IIIIS?!"
Two wizards in black suits began 'escorting' 'The Prophet' out of the active lobby, with Ron screaming in a delirious confusion, "HARRY! HARRYYY! MAAAAN! HAAAARRY! I AM THE ******* PROPHET!! GET YOUR HANDS OFF MEH! HARRY!"
Lucky (I guess) for Harry (and 'The Prophet'), Mr. Potter was walking through the lobby door. He ordered the Ministry Thugs off Ron's poncho. Ron straightened his tiny, black sunglasses on the end of his nose, and tightened the strings around his ankles that held his plastic-bag 'shoes' in place. (More air-quotes! :D ) His braided ponytail was still askew.
"Uuuh, Ron, lookin' good... I.. guess..." The clean-looking Harry studied the 'beer' in Ron's hand and made a face.
"HARRY, MAN!" Ron said, waving his 'beer' stone-ed-ly, getting everything within a five-foot radius of the two wet. Ron's stench began rising off his poncho and filling the large room.
"Harry..." Ron looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was listening in while he 'whispered'. "Come closer." He waved his beer hand to the un-responsive Harry. iMy, what a God-awful strench.../i "HARRY! Yer... man... this is a bummer, dude, but, dude, yer gunna die... Dude. THE UNKNOWN FORCE TOLD ME THROUGH MY CRITTERS!"
"Uh, you still have those things, Ron?"
"Suuuuuuuure! Here's Hank's Kidney Stone!" Ron digs around in the main 'pockets' of his poncho. Harry starts backing away from the stinky prophet. "Oooh, look, a stowaway! Remember Bilbo, Harry?! He wanted to see you!" Ron jabs the stuffed dead animal in Harry's face. "SECURITY!! GET THIS SICK-O A BROOM SO HE CAN LEAVE!"
The two thugs come back and stick Ron on his borrowed broom. "Cya, Harry! And... oh... DUDE, yer gunna DIIIIIIIIIE-" the security men shut the large doors on Ron.
The foamy-figure of Ron appeared in a window, clawing feebly at the glass. "Yo Harry! What about Bilbo?! He'll be awful homesick. HARRY! HARRY!" 'The Prophet' was forced onto a broomstick and into the air by the security thugs (hmm... this is probably illegal, since Ron is under the influence of... several things... Not like anyone would care at this point. WOO!) After his short 'flight', he comes tumbling down. Just as he's about to hit the ground, he swerves upward.
"Uh, think it's alright for him to fly while he's inebriated?" said one thug to the other.
"Eh, not like anyone would care at this point." They went back into the building.
Serpentining along the buildings, Ron careens his way to where he thinks is the right direction. Ron's ends up impaled by the flagpole, jutting out the side of the ministry building.
Meanwhile, Harry walks up the stairs to his office. He glances out the window of his office and notices a bleeding Ron, reaching out his hands towards Bilbo, that somehow managed to end up on the windowsill, starring out at Ron. (ooo-SPOOKY!)
Harry cautiously closes the blind over both Bilbo and Ron, and sits down to work. Only after he heard the break of the flagpole, the thud, and the screams in the street did he bother to open the blinds again. And there was Bilbo, starrin' up at him!
Author's Note: Tune in next time, to hear the rest of the exciting adventures of Bilbo, Harry, and 'The Prophet'! :D Please review! Flames are encouraged (and, if you'd like, please spell horribly and have everything in caps lock so we can get the most amusement from your anger! And please use many exclamation points with ones, as shown below:
Ex: ARRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 I HAT UUUUUU!!!!11
Thank you! :D
... 1)