The Same Old Crap.

1



"Alright, I suppose I can appreciate Moulin rouge on a purely ironic level."

He was wearing his grey cords and an Atom And His Package tee… The pretentious bastard. Look at his pretentiousness!!

"Look," I say, walking out of the class and into the flooded hallway..

"If Moulin Rouge was made by Baz Lurhman. Than it was a good movie. Not a question asked, if you ask me. And besides, nothing is purely ironic." He gives me this quick and disgusted look, and then, seems very confused. He brushes his jet black hair out of his face… The pretentious bastard.

"Uh… Ron…" He says, slowly rising one eyebrow up.. "Since when do we talk like pretentious theatre students?" And I stare at him… he does have a point. Remembering then, I straighten up, and dodge a two Ravenclaws walking between us.

"Weren't you paying attention? They said this is how we'd be talking if JK Rowling had remembered to make us sound any older than when the book series first began. A healthy, decision, although I fear it has come far too late in the series. We've spent, what, a thousand pages being the same age. Some of our younger and/or American readers I doubt even know what the meaning of the word pretentious." And He stares at me like he doesn't know what pretentious means.

"I think we're over using the word pretentious, to be frank, Ron."

"I think you're pissing off the readers, Harry."

"Aah, touché.

"Well then, is it back to speaking like eleven year olds, then?"

"I think it is. Atleast I don't have to call you a pretentious bastard anymore." There's a faint popping sound in the back of my head.

"… Was that the switch?" I ask, with a strange twinge of a white trash accent.

"I think so, Ron. I guess I go back to not having a personality again."

Harry's wearing his zebra pants and a Micky Mouse shirt….. that poo poo head.

"Is this dumbed down enough for our American viewers?"

"I think so, Ron….Hmm…. Which ones America again?"

"America?" Professor Snape has been walking behind us, listening in on our conversation. From no where, the unusually peppy Professor Snape pulls down a map. And points to an unusually pointy country.

"This ones America." He says, looking at me. "Pointy, isn't it?"





And the strange beginning comes to an end.

The end.

Er. My deepest sympathies for subjectin' you to it.

No. Seriously. Really. Sorry.