THE DON'Ts OF FANFICTION

This story, my children, is composed of the things you should never…ever…EVER write. Under absolutely NO circumstances are any of these adequate for a good writer's story. Of these errors, or "misguidances," as Kyle likes to refer to them as, we will include: Mary-Sue, Citrus, Vulgarity, an OOC cast, and cheese popcorn at 1:52 A.M. (Typos will not be included. Our apparent lack of dignity for writing this story only reaches such low boundaries…)

To fully understand… everything, read 'General Writing Techniques'. You might get to know what we're talking about here.

Main (OOC) Characters:

-Ashley Jacobs, Mary-Sue/Slut Extraordinaire

-Harry Potter, Pothead Supreme

-Ronald Bilius Weasley, Emo Kid

-Hermione Granger, Wannabe Mary-Sue (a.k.a., Extreme Makeover: Hermione Edition)

-Draco Malfoy, Tormented Soul

Ashley Jacobs was a beautiful girl, and everyone knew it. Her hair was of the more voluptuous variety; it's thick, silky, black tresses cascaded in gentle curls down to the small of her back. It seemed to move with the flow of her body; it had a life of its own. The features of her slender face appealed to all who glimpsed it, with its soft heart shape, full lips, and pronounced, piercing sky-blue eyes. She moved with grace, power, and confidence.

Ashley Jacobs feared no obstacle. No task was too great for her-her body and mind had undergone many years of intense training under martial arts masters and simultaneous years of fencing school.

Maybe that is why her hand was unwavering as she stepped into the Great Hall for the first time that brisk September morning. Perhaps her mind and spirit were so strong that even the task of defeating Voldemort was not too hard for her.

Maybe she WAS Voldemort. Probably not, though. Anyway.

Stifled conversations rose to the flying buttresses of the Great Hall like butterflies on a lie detector test (this is descriptive writing).

"Who's that sexy BITCH?" someone muttered. However, they had a disease where their vocal chords often and randomly spasm, so it came out as a scream. Ashley smirked in his direction and winked one overly-eyeliner'd eye. Five pounds of makeup fell off her face, Mary-Sues were realized for the ugly, gross, whores that they were, Hogwarts came crashing down, Harry died along with everyone else, no one was interested in Fan Fiction anymore, and the site exploded.

…Back to the story.

A short while later, Ashley was sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Oh, crap. Mary-Sues aren't Ravenclaws…

A short while later, Ashley was sitting at the Gryffindor table stifled by a random group of guys, one of which had their hand going up her robe. But it was OK, because Ashley is a slut who will probably sleep with anyone. Including you, you horny bastard.

…Back to the story.

This particular person (now with both hands up Ashley's robe), happened to be Ron Weasley, who was a little emotional over his lack of lovin' for quite some time now. In fact, he was emotional over most things. Like daisies. Sometimes even cheese popcorn got him a bit teary-eyed nowadays.

Harry, however, was one of the few students who weren't joining in on the new girl's welcome to Hogwarts. He was too busy off in a corner smoking a joint. Wrapped by a Cuban. It was pleasant. The enchanted sky swirling around the ceiling seemed to shimmer, change colors, and produce a rather large depiction of a dancing Dumbledore. "Funny weather we're having, eh, ol' chap?" Harry sighed with content to his pot-smoking buddy, Seamus Finnigan.

"I know what you mean, man…"

In the mean time, Ron had carried Ashley up to the Gryffindor common room to "show her around." However, given the fact that they hadn't been seen for an hour, there was little doubt as to what the tour de la Ron consisted of.

Things that make you go "bleergh." Things consisting of Ron…naked. Like I said. "Bleergh."

Back to the story…

Needless to say, Hermione was less than impressed by this new little farkiss barging in on her territory. Normally, the guys had been overtaken by her brains and mediocre good looks, but now it looked like her only status as school vixen would be overthrown… unless, of course, a makeover ensued.

And ensue it did.

"Oh, Ashley!" she called up the stairs.

Draco was sitting in an abandoned broom closet, crying pearlescent tears…

…of angst.

He picked up a shard of broken glass. It reminded him of his own shattered, young heart. So, he named the piece of glass Friar Borken, which is how the Finnish spell broken. With the 'friar' and all.

DISCLAIMER: This is not a proven fact.

He raised it to his pinkie toe, a much mutilated appendage where he let out most of his torment. Poor toe. Draco cut another slash through it, and it finally fell off.

"Stupid toe! Where am I supposed to put my torment now?" Draco started sobbing. "I'm not really evil! I'm just a tormented soul, just like in the list of characters! What will I do when Papa finds out? How I wish I had someone to hold!"

Just then, a light rapping was heard from the other side of the closet. Draco wiped his eyes and toe stump, and opened the door. Hermione, a much improved version of the bookworm, entered, and for no apparent reason, snogged the face off of Draco. "I knew you weren't really evil! I KNEW you were just a tormented soul!"

Draco smiled. "Finally, someone who understands my angst, sorrow, torment, depression, hopelessness, despair, gloominess, despondency and anguish! I feel SO ALIVE!" However, Draco then had an aneurism and died. Hermione spiraled into a very pretty depression. However, just like a toilet bowl in the southern hemisphere, she un-spiraled when she had an idea…

…Dumbledore.

She ran up staircase after staircase, all the way to the new doorway which Dumbledore had placed there conveniently for no reason whatsoever. "Dumbledore! Dumbledore!" she yelled. Thankfully, Dumbledore was in there, even though he is extremely busy, and he looked like he had time to do some random thing, like obeying what a student said. "Hello Hermione, would you like some tea?" He asked, smiling.

"NO, I DON'T WANT ANY TEA! THE ONE PERSON WHO UNDERSTANDS ME AND MY BOOKWORMISH HOTNESS IS DEAD!" Hermione screeched.

"Oh, alright. I can bring people back to life even though it was clearly stated in the third book of this series that we inhabit that once someone is dead, magic can not interfere. Isn't that convenient?" Dumbledore smiled. And he went down to Draco's body and brought him back to life. Yay.

--

Awful, huh? Yeah, we know. Anyway, here's where YOU come in, if you really want to read any more…

Click that sexy little review button right down there, and in that review, we want you to direct where you want this story's true cliché to go. Your choices BE:

-CROSSOVER TIME: Babysitters Club + Holes. (Help from Starsies and Pippage, because we know you love them so much)

OR

-Harry becomes a kleptomaniac (randomly), and everyone decides to go to CHICKEN, ALASKA for a FIELD TRIP!

You decide the path, we'll direct our own butts.

Hugs, Love, and much Smooches,

Kyle Melavowig and Rudolph Rhinehardt
Cliche Busters, Inc.