This is an amusing Harry Potter anecdote. Prepare to leer with scorn.
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, they belong to J.K. Rowling, and I am making no money from my spite.
P.S. I wrote this because I am feeling rather irksome after posting a rather clever piece of crud under HP author fics a few days ago--and nobody read it or reviewed it. Needless to say, my feelings were hurt. Can I encourage anyone to goto "Muses of a Hangover"? It's much better written with a more deep plot than this piece of filth...and almost clever...
"So," Harry Potter began as he prodded at his plate of eggs with his fork, "what crosses your mind?"
Ron Weasley looked up suddenly and glanced around suspiciously. "What? You know? Good lord, Harry, tell no-one!"
Harry offered Ron a frown before turning to Dobby, the house-elf. "Dobbers, my good man, about these eggs--"
"Dehydrated. Came from a box. Learned about them from a popular university in Arkansas, the United States."
"Hadron, right?" Hermione inquired wisely. She knew the genetic structure of the eggs, as she had read up on them and anything else that required intelligence. "In Scarcely. A dinky town run by hypocricy. The entire county is dry."
"There is no water?" Ron demanded, jerking his head up. "My lord! How do they drink there?"
Hermoione returned his solemn exclamation with a sad shake of her head. "They don't. It's DRY, Ronaldo."
"That must save on diapers," Dobby quipped brightly.
Hermione nodded.
"Don't call me Ronaldo," Ron snapped. He buried his face in his hands and murmured to himself. "The voices, the voices--they won't quit!"
"'Kay, Ronnie." Hermione finished moving the eggs around on her plate. She was very pleased with the arrangement. "Besides. I'm on a diet. I'm almost six feet tall and I weigh nearly one hundred pounds."
Harry looked at her with disdain. "You pig."
She stood and towered over him, her teeth gnashing. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, don't eat me, Oh Hermione of the Bedroom Chambers." Harry fled from the table. Dobby chased after him, calling out: "Harry-Farry-Bo-Berry-Bing-Bang-So-Merry: Harry!"
Hermione resumed her normal size and grinned with satisfaction. "Ha. Scared 'im."
Ron looked up suddenly and his eyes darted around the room. He jammed his finger up his nose. "F-U-M-N-X?"
"No, just the eggs. The ham was inedible. The eggs were merely repugnant." Hermione swept her robe around her and strode elegantly out of the room. Ron watched her walk away.
Draco Malfoy nudged him with his elbow. Ron, at the contact, shrieked and fell from his chair. Draco helped him up. Ron gazed at Draco, his arch nemesis, with wide-eyed terror.
Draco, noting his mistake of too much geniality, pushed Ron down again before guiding him back into the chair. "That Herm. She's somethin', ain't she?"
"Something FRIGHTENING," Ron said with a quavering voice.
"I'd like a piece of her," Draco added.
"Well, yeah, we're all resorting to cannibalism after being served this poison." Ron screamed in fright at his eggs, which had just winked at him. "Oh my Bhudda! I can't take this anymore!"
"You atheist," Draco sneered. "I'm moving to Scarcely to be clean and dry and watch PG movies in the Scarcely Cinema-8. At least they don't worship--"
"Shut up, Draco," the eggs said boredly. "You're giving me a headache."
Draco spat on the eggs and left.
"Mmm," the eggs commented as they chewed Draco's phlegm, "not too bad. I could recommend this concoction to the house-elves."
"Really?" Ron asked, intrigued. He picked up his fork.
Insanity reigned supreme. Soon potatoes held a seige on the dining hall and nobody could leave. But nobody wanted to: eggs with spit was just too delectable.
FIN
A/N: This is just a prelude of what may come if nobody reads my wholesome posts...mwahahahahaha!
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, they belong to J.K. Rowling, and I am making no money from my spite.
P.S. I wrote this because I am feeling rather irksome after posting a rather clever piece of crud under HP author fics a few days ago--and nobody read it or reviewed it. Needless to say, my feelings were hurt. Can I encourage anyone to goto "Muses of a Hangover"? It's much better written with a more deep plot than this piece of filth...and almost clever...
"So," Harry Potter began as he prodded at his plate of eggs with his fork, "what crosses your mind?"
Ron Weasley looked up suddenly and glanced around suspiciously. "What? You know? Good lord, Harry, tell no-one!"
Harry offered Ron a frown before turning to Dobby, the house-elf. "Dobbers, my good man, about these eggs--"
"Dehydrated. Came from a box. Learned about them from a popular university in Arkansas, the United States."
"Hadron, right?" Hermione inquired wisely. She knew the genetic structure of the eggs, as she had read up on them and anything else that required intelligence. "In Scarcely. A dinky town run by hypocricy. The entire county is dry."
"There is no water?" Ron demanded, jerking his head up. "My lord! How do they drink there?"
Hermoione returned his solemn exclamation with a sad shake of her head. "They don't. It's DRY, Ronaldo."
"That must save on diapers," Dobby quipped brightly.
Hermione nodded.
"Don't call me Ronaldo," Ron snapped. He buried his face in his hands and murmured to himself. "The voices, the voices--they won't quit!"
"'Kay, Ronnie." Hermione finished moving the eggs around on her plate. She was very pleased with the arrangement. "Besides. I'm on a diet. I'm almost six feet tall and I weigh nearly one hundred pounds."
Harry looked at her with disdain. "You pig."
She stood and towered over him, her teeth gnashing. "Excuse me?"
"I mean, don't eat me, Oh Hermione of the Bedroom Chambers." Harry fled from the table. Dobby chased after him, calling out: "Harry-Farry-Bo-Berry-Bing-Bang-So-Merry: Harry!"
Hermione resumed her normal size and grinned with satisfaction. "Ha. Scared 'im."
Ron looked up suddenly and his eyes darted around the room. He jammed his finger up his nose. "F-U-M-N-X?"
"No, just the eggs. The ham was inedible. The eggs were merely repugnant." Hermione swept her robe around her and strode elegantly out of the room. Ron watched her walk away.
Draco Malfoy nudged him with his elbow. Ron, at the contact, shrieked and fell from his chair. Draco helped him up. Ron gazed at Draco, his arch nemesis, with wide-eyed terror.
Draco, noting his mistake of too much geniality, pushed Ron down again before guiding him back into the chair. "That Herm. She's somethin', ain't she?"
"Something FRIGHTENING," Ron said with a quavering voice.
"I'd like a piece of her," Draco added.
"Well, yeah, we're all resorting to cannibalism after being served this poison." Ron screamed in fright at his eggs, which had just winked at him. "Oh my Bhudda! I can't take this anymore!"
"You atheist," Draco sneered. "I'm moving to Scarcely to be clean and dry and watch PG movies in the Scarcely Cinema-8. At least they don't worship--"
"Shut up, Draco," the eggs said boredly. "You're giving me a headache."
Draco spat on the eggs and left.
"Mmm," the eggs commented as they chewed Draco's phlegm, "not too bad. I could recommend this concoction to the house-elves."
"Really?" Ron asked, intrigued. He picked up his fork.
Insanity reigned supreme. Soon potatoes held a seige on the dining hall and nobody could leave. But nobody wanted to: eggs with spit was just too delectable.
FIN
A/N: This is just a prelude of what may come if nobody reads my wholesome posts...mwahahahahaha!