Note: I have never seen a more easily butthurt group of people than Harry Potter fans. The last time I posted the first part of this story (YOU GONNA GET CREAMED), it recieved massive amounts of traffic and then someone who apparently takes the internet very, very seriously complained and somehow got it removed.
Whatever. If you don't like it, don't read it. Keep your Nazi Gestapo horse shit censorship to your fucking self and shut your fucking mouth. Let people read it. If you don't like it, guess what?
You don't have to read it. Go back to reading your underage teen wizard boy slash fic, you gross, overweight hags.
P.S. JK Rowling doesn't have shit on me. Enjoy and don't be a whiny fucking puss-puss.
YOU GONNA GET CREAMED.
Harry Potter squatted his naked ass over a drainage ditch alongside a highway just outside of Detroit. He grunted and sprayed hot, stinging liquid shit into the stagnant water of the ditch.
"Ohhhh, my asshole! My fucking asshole!" Harry screamed as cars rushed by, some honking or throwing trash at him as they passed. Harry was disheveled and hadn't shaved or bathed in days. Over his white-stained-yellow t-shirt, he wore a rumpled flannel button down. He wasn't any fancy sort of person and was wearing filthy, food-stained gray sweatpants. Harry also wore black velcro retard shoes.
"Fuck my mouth, that stung real bad," Harry said as he pulled up his sweatpants (he wasn't wearing any underwear) without wiping his ass. He turned around and stared into the drainage ditch at his floating, reeking sea of shit.
"I think I'm going to go get some cream," he said. Harry then turned and began to hitch hike. He stuck one hand out, thumb extended, in an attempt to procure a ride into the city and his other hand, he buried into the back of his sweatpants, frantically wiping and smearing the shit that still caked his ass crack all over his sweating butt cheeks.
"Goddamn barf, it is fucking hot as a motherfucker, yo."
"Thanks for the ride, you limp-dicked faggot," Harry screamed at the confused elderly woman who gave him a ride into the Detroit slums, "I hope your pussy spews AIDS."
Harry had moved to America shortly after graduating from that gay faggot idiot retard Wizard High School. He spent a lot of his time smoking Oxycontin or injecting heroin. It was a wonderful life and he hoped all of his old friends were dead.
Standing in the middle of the street, he stuck his hands down his sweat pants and puked down the front of his flannel shirt. The gaggle of crackheads shivering in front of the abandoned townhouses hardly paid him any attention, but Harry waved merrily and smiled.
"Now how bout that cream!" Harry shouted, heading down the street towards the glow of the red light district. A few minutes later, he found himself propositioned by a whore. The whore's face was mangled and burned, probably from a meth accident, and her titties were, to be generous, absolute fucking train wrecks.
"I will suck your cock and let you hit me," she said, "My name is Smell-Hole."
"Welllllll, howdy, Smell-Hole! How are you this fine evening?" Harry asked, extending his hand. Smell-Hole used her index finger to close one nostril of her disfigured nose and then fired a dripping green snot rocket into Harry's hand. Harry instantly smeared the mucus in his hair, slicking it back in a most dapper fashion.
"I am hounding for a pounding," Smell-Hole said simply.
"Wow, that is just great. It's super duper to see our free market economy thriving like this, but I'm looking for something different. I'm looking for...cream," Harry leaned in, whispering the last part conspiratorily. The odor coming from between Smell-Hole's brown, crumbling teeth was enough to make Harry feel like weeping for the death of all humanity.
"What are you talking about? What's cream?" Smell-Hole asked, confused. Harry busted her nose open with a chunk of the broken side walk. Smell-Hole didn't even blink as she choked to death on her own blood.
"Well, first thing's first!" Harry said and kicked off one of his velcro shoes. From underneath its sole, he removed his heroin cooking kit. He poured some of the brown powder on the tin foil, peed in it, and cooked it to a fine boil with a disposable butane lighter. After he loaded the needle, he stuck it into his balls and injected himself super hard.
"This helps me cope with the magical lifestyle. I really sincerely hope Ron is dead."
Hours later, Harry found himself eating handfuls of fried chicken outside of an all-night abortion clinic with some crying teenage girls.
"What are you bitches doing after you murder your babies?" Harry asked. They shot him disgusted looks and then walked into the clinic. Harry shrugged and smeared the chicken grease on his face.
"Whatever, bitches. When you come out, you gonna get creamed," Harry smiled. At his feet sat a greasy paper bag labeled "FECES". He reached into the bag and then slapped shit all over his face while he screamed. When his face was appropriately poop-festooned, he took out two glass jars labeled "JIZZ" and "HEAD LICE". He began mixing them in a stained bucket.
"Oh yeah, oh yeah, gonna make some cream. Making this cream. Reap what you have sown. And by 'reap' I mean 'cream' and by 'sown' I also mean 'cream'. So basically 'Cream what you have cream', I guess," Harry said. Suddenly, Dumbledore appeared beside him.
"Oh no. What the fuck do you want, nigger?" Harry asked, eyeing the headmaster warily.
"Harry, I came to pop all my totally gnarly zits into your face, you dumb motherfucker. Open wide, fag-stick. Gonna cock up the place with my elderly boner," Dumbledore said, pulling off his stupid wizard hat and puking into it before putting it back on his head.
"You are a faggot. You are literally an elderly idiot douchebag fart-fag," Harry pulled a sawed off shotgun out of his poopy sweatpants.
"What is that? I don't know shit about fuck. All I know about is chocolate frogs and jelly beans that taste like hot piss," Dumbledore's stupid old guy voice was bugging the shit out of Harry.
"Here. Look inside. It's for you, bro," Harry said. When Dumbledore looked into the barrel of the shotgun, Harry pulled the triggers and turned his face into ragged, bleeding pulp. Kept alive by some God of Total Gayness, Dumbledore tried to speak.
"Grlglglgrlglrgllglglbrglbglbgrlb. Hurrr. Grrblebllbrlbrlbrlbblr. Phlbtlbllhtblbltbltblbtlpbttltbpt!" Dumbledore said before popping a totally raging, mega-huge boner and flying up into space, never to be seen again.
"Thank God he's gone or dead or whatever just happened," Harry said, farting into a section of garden hose that led directly into his nose. Behind him, he heard the door of the abortion clinic open and the girls from earlier walked out. In a rage, Harry whirled around holding his bucket of cream.
"HEY EVERYBODDDDDDDDY! YOU GONNA GET CREAMED!" Harry shrieked, frothing at the mouth like an absolute lunatic. The girls screeched and began running down the street. Harry gave chase, holding the bucket with one hand and taking handfuls of his special cream with the other and slurping it down like someone with Down Syndrome. He eventually caught the first girl.
"HEY THERE, HAVE SOME OF THIS, GIRLY!" Harry shouted, slapping her in the face with a handful of cream. The girl immediately dropped to the ground, seizing and shitting her pants before her head exploded and spiders came streaming out and she died. Harry paused briefly, shoved his face into her butt and huffed some sweet, sweet doo doo gas.
"Oh yeah, that did the trick. Time to cream!" Harry said as he took off running. The combination of cream and poop gas resulted in him being able to run like an inhuman robot of sexual destruction. In short order, he caught up to the second girl.
"Oh, hi there! Did you order SOME CREAM PERHAPS!?" Harry vomited a gallon of cream right into her face and it melted her flesh and skull and a thousand angels decended from heaven to fart her corpse into oblivion.
"Hee hee! I have magical powers! This is just rad!" Harry sprinted like an absolute abomination at the final girl. He caught up to her and knocked her to the ground. She rolled in the dirt and peed her pampers. Harry rolled her over, the bucket of cream poised at the ready.
"Be prepared to meet sweet baby Jesus, fartface!" he shrieked. Then he paused. Lying below him was his old friend Hermione.
"Please, sir, please don't. Please, just- Harry? Oh my goodness! Harry?! How have you been?" Hermione asked, shoving a handful of crack rocks into her mouth, eating them whole. Harry stared down at Hermione silently for a full minute. Without saying a word, he hoisted the bucket and drank the remaining five gallons of cream, maintaining eye contact with Hermione the entire time. When he was done, he belched and cast the bucket to the side.
"Harry...are you alright?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling quite shy.
"Abortion is wrong, Hermione," Harry whispered before dropping his stained sweatpants, turning around, and hovering his filthy, shit-caked ass over Hermione's face and torso.
"What...what are you doing?" Hermione asked. Harry stared off into the distance.
"I'm becoming a legend today. And I'm going to kiss the stars," his said, more to himself than to his old friend. Before Hermione could say anything, Harry begain to grunt loudly and painfully.
"UNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he heaved and strained and a gigantic, spraying rocket of shit began to pour of out his ass. Hermione screamed and screamed and screamed, but the sound of the doo doo quickly drowned her out, melted her flesh, and dissolved her bones and organs. Harry kept straining and then he began to lift off of the ground, screaming and shrieking.
"OH CHRIST, MY FUCKING ASSHOLE!"
Harry arced up in the sky, leaving a brown streak across the entire continental United States. Within seconds, he was hurtling through space. The moon lay out in the blackness of space in front of him. Then it began to get bigger and bigger.
Harry rode his buttpipe shit rocket to the moon and landed and spent twenty years with that idiot jizz-trap Dumbledore, snorting moon rocks, until the United States launched a nuclear missile up there to kill them both.
I CREAM YOU CREAM WE ALL CREAM FOR CREAM-CREAM
Severus Snape was squatting in an abandoned apartment building in Chicago because he was fucking insane. At five in the morning, he opened his eyes from where he slept on his bare, stained mattress.
"Today is a good day for some cream," he said to the empty room. He rose from his bed and dressed for the day. His Tweety Bird sweatshirt was stained with motor oil and his flannel pajama bottoms were caked in dried mud. However, his yellow flip flops were immaculately cared for. Snape moved silently into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the dull, early morning light.
"I shall cream. We all shall cream," he whispered before he squatted over the sink and emptied about seven gallons of steaming diarrhea into it. He wiped his ass with the bath mat because his life was a trainwreck and moved to the closet in his living room. Snape screamed and ripped the doors off of their hinges and flung them through the already broken window into the street below.
The closet was filled with stinking, filthy piles of clothing, most of which had Tweety Bird on them in some form. Snape dug throughthe piles until he found a fancy leather briefcase and sat down on the sofa he stole from a retarded black woman (Snape was a pretty big racist).
The briefcase was beautiful Italiam leather with a name plate that read "Cream". He remembered going and asking the man to engrave it.
"I want it to say 'Cream'," he had demanded.
"Um, what?" the clerk had laughed. Snape farted at loud as possible and repeated his demands.
This very briefcase now sat on his lap. He clicked the latches and opened the lid. Inside were probably a hundred pages torn from various pornographic magazines. Snape pushed aside a few sheafs of porn and discovered several old banana sandwiches. He stared at them for an hour before finally speaking.
"Everything seems to be in order" and with that he shut the briefcase and left his filthy, garbage strewn hovel.
Eight a.m. After spending three hours doing whippets and popping Quaaludes behind a 7/11, Snape shuffled to a bus stop. He sat down on the bench next to an elderly woman. Snape stared straight ahead.
"Hello there. Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" the old woman asked. Snape slowly swiveled his head until he was looking right at her.
"Would...you...like...some...cream?" he asked. Without waiting for a response, he popped the latches on his cream/brief-case. He picked up a crumpled piece of pornography, wiped it on the sandwiches, and then slowly reached out, lightly touching the old lady on the face, then pressing hard and harder and harder.
"What...what is this?" she tried to ask. Snape pushed harder, his face shaking with unexpressed fury. Eventually, he shoved the old woman onto the ground where she lay asking for help. A few minutes later the bus arrived and Snape stood and stepped to the doors.
"Hey there, does she need some help?"
"How about you just shut your fucking mouth, motherfucker?" Snape asked in his flat, drawn-out monotone. He threw a handful of "cream" at the bus driver and sat in the back next to a masturbating lunatic. They took turns throwing up on the floor and crying while also farting.
"Welcome to McDonald's, how can I help you?"
It was 11a.m. The bus driver and all the passengers were dead. Snape wanted breakfast before continuing his cream spree.
"I will have the breakfast combo platter meal. I want the fattest employee to fart and spit onto my meal," Snape asked.
"Oooo, I'm sorry, sir. We stopped serving breakfast at 11. It's 11 oh 5," the girl working the counter frowned in apology.
"Oh...ohhhhh Christ. Well, perhaps we can trade cream for breakfast," Snape suggested, reaching under the pornography and past the banana sandwiches. His hand closed around a .44 Magnum Ruger Super Redhawk, which he swung out and brandished wildly. Several people in the restaurant started to scream. He shot the girl in the shoulder and she ran out.
"I DEMAND MUGGLE BREAKFAST WITH MAGICAL ELF URINE IN MY FACE AND PUSSY!" Snape screamed, firing randomly into the air. He threw the gun into the fryer and then walked out, shitting down his pajama pants. There are no police in Chicago, so he just walked right out.
A little while later, he found Ginny Weasely shitting her guts out in a trash can and he melted her face with a nuclear AIDS burp while eating every single goddamn bit of cream. Dumbledore appeared nexted to him after he was done.
"Hey, retard. What's up?" Dumbledore asked. He immediately lit up a crack pipe and took a long drag.
"Oh, you know. Cream today, cream tomorrow. Cream is the cure for unending sorrow," Snape said.
"Oh yeah, okay, what the fuck ever. That sounds fruity as shit. Jesus Christ, I am high as a motherfucker, yo. You wanna commit some felony robbery?" Dumbledore asked, his pupils fully dilated.
"Well, Headmaster, it seems that I've misplaced my Ruger Super Redhawk. I will require a flamethrower and a Squirt Gun filled with banana daquiris," Snape asked.
Within seconds, he had his requirements and they both made their way to the all-night abortion clinic. Even though it was now 2a.m., there were at least a hundred people murdering their babies and paying cash.
"Okay, nobody fucking move or the babies won't be the only ones dying!" Dumbledore fired pink magical spells out of his fruity fagfuck machinegun that turns everything into huge black dicks. While he was robbing everyone, Snape walked slowly around the room smooshing cream into the faces of upset whores.
"Creeeeeaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmm," Snape drawled in an imitation of slow motion. His pants were entirely soaked in urine, so he took them off and walked naked down the street until a tractor trailer killed him and then Dumbledore accidentally shot his own faggot ass.
I GOT SOME CREAM. YOU GOT SOME CREAM?
Ron Wealsey was living in a slum outside of Philadelphia after leaving the stupid goddamn wizard school where nothing cool happened. Now he was his own man. Now he dressed himself however he wanted: he was wearing work boots he took off of a hobo that he then filled with his own shit, he was wearing a bright yellow Speedo, and he never bathed or wiped his ass and, as such, he was covered in horrific body acne. Giantic, yellow heads topped red, infect flesh and he couldn't give less of a shit.
"Oi! I fink I'll go get a lil cream wif me mates!" Ron screamed into the barf-filled toilet he was dunking his head into. Ron smacked his own ass, smashing his hand wetly against the brown streak down the center of his yellow Speedo. Truly, he would get a little cream.
"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck You!" Ron screamed at the Japanese businessman he had stabbed right in the middle of a crowded Starbucks, "I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR SECRET GOBLIN POWERS!"
Japanese people are a little fucked up, so obviously this guy had a huge boner over being stabbed and he was spraying his weird alien jizz all over the place. Ron could just not stop shitting and rubbing it on his face like war paint.
"The Native Americans are extinct because they were dumb, motherfuckers!" Ron whooped and ran out of the Starbucks into the night.
"TO CREAMFINITY AND BEYOND!"
Ron jumped through the plate glass window of the retarded people's Tard Hospital. Some glass got into his face and genitals and he started shrieking wildly while all the retards hooted like animals. There were no orderlies because no one gave a shit. These guys were alright. They could take care of themselves and they loved to color.
"Hey guys, get a load of this horsefuck! HERE COMES THE CREEEEEAAAAAAAAM!" Ron said and started mashing his gnarly, grotesque zits. Gigantic rivers of pus buried the hooting retarded people and Ron popped a raging, mega-huge boner and shit in his Speedo for the fiftieth time that day. The raging river of pus destroyed the whole building and Ron orgasmed one hundred and forty-three times in six minutes, then passed out.
Later, Ron was smoking crystal meth while performing procedures at the all-night abortion clinic when all of a sudden that idiot professor McGonagal showed up.
"MISTER WEASLEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she screeched.
"What in the FUUUUUCK does it look like, shitstain?" Ron countered. Before McGonagal could reply, Ron turned his butt to face her and shot a poop bullet through her abdomen, killing her.
"Oooo, unghhhh, oooo, ungghhhhh, oooooooo!" Ron sang as he continued his work.
Two days later, Ron found himself in a confessional booth as his local church. The priest came in and shut the door behind him.
"What the fuck do you want, Charlie?"
"Bless me, father, for I have- BLAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!" Ron started scream-puking and filled the entire church up with vomit until the whole thing exploded and Ron rode a wave of barf all the way to North Korea where he was immediately murdered by best buddies Kim Jong Un and Dennis Rodman, who is actually a total fucking retard.
THUS ENDETH THE CREAM THRILLOGY.