This story is about love.phsyke.
HARRY POTTER AND THE SCAR-REDUCING NEOSPORIN GEL
Harry was going through Aunt Petunia's closet again. This isn't unexpected, Harry likes women clothing. Harry decided Aunt Petunia needed some new threads, she was sooo out-dated. Harry was bummed. He sat on the edge of his bed in his green and white floral gown and gazed longingly out the window. "What I really need is a perm." Harry said to himself. He got onto his broom stick, steadied himself by the window ledge and kicked off from the sill.
Harry awoke in the hospital room 48 hours later. He had a bandaged femur, and as he watched the psychiatrist walk in, noticed he had only a monocle. However, he made quite enjoyed it, and he picked up his jell-o bowl and prepared for eating the red gelatinous jigglers with a knife and fork. The psychiatrist punched his fist into his head. As it turns out, he wasn't a psychiatrist, just some guy randomly walking into hospital rooms and punching himself in the head. Harry was home.
Harry got his letter to attend Hogwarts from the janitor. Apparently, owls aren't allowed in hospitals, yet no one quite knows the reason. What was written on it is as follows: Eggs Milk Exlax Feminine Hygiene Products Toothpaste Pickles This wasn't the letter Harry had expected, but what did Harry know anyway. He was in the psyche ward. Harry placed the list under his pillow. He liked knowing it came from McGonnagal. He secretly loved her, but he also liked wearing women's underwear. "I bet McGonnagal has really really nice granny panties." Harry said licking his lips, and then the nurse came in and administered some stuff that made Harry's fluid drain from his body. Harry needed a new bed-pan.
Harry awoke with a start; he was back on Privet Drive, safe in his bed. It had all been a dream. He wasn't crazy, he didn't secretly love McGonnagal, and from the looks of it, he didn't need a new bed pan. He got up from the covers crossed the mirror and looked into it. A healthy happy boy looked back at him from the mirror. He surveyed his face, and then his forhead and noticed..there was no scar!! That's because he wasn't Harry Potter.
HARRY POTTER AND THE SCAR-REDUCING NEOSPORIN GEL
Harry was going through Aunt Petunia's closet again. This isn't unexpected, Harry likes women clothing. Harry decided Aunt Petunia needed some new threads, she was sooo out-dated. Harry was bummed. He sat on the edge of his bed in his green and white floral gown and gazed longingly out the window. "What I really need is a perm." Harry said to himself. He got onto his broom stick, steadied himself by the window ledge and kicked off from the sill.
Harry awoke in the hospital room 48 hours later. He had a bandaged femur, and as he watched the psychiatrist walk in, noticed he had only a monocle. However, he made quite enjoyed it, and he picked up his jell-o bowl and prepared for eating the red gelatinous jigglers with a knife and fork. The psychiatrist punched his fist into his head. As it turns out, he wasn't a psychiatrist, just some guy randomly walking into hospital rooms and punching himself in the head. Harry was home.
Harry got his letter to attend Hogwarts from the janitor. Apparently, owls aren't allowed in hospitals, yet no one quite knows the reason. What was written on it is as follows: Eggs Milk Exlax Feminine Hygiene Products Toothpaste Pickles This wasn't the letter Harry had expected, but what did Harry know anyway. He was in the psyche ward. Harry placed the list under his pillow. He liked knowing it came from McGonnagal. He secretly loved her, but he also liked wearing women's underwear. "I bet McGonnagal has really really nice granny panties." Harry said licking his lips, and then the nurse came in and administered some stuff that made Harry's fluid drain from his body. Harry needed a new bed-pan.
Harry awoke with a start; he was back on Privet Drive, safe in his bed. It had all been a dream. He wasn't crazy, he didn't secretly love McGonnagal, and from the looks of it, he didn't need a new bed pan. He got up from the covers crossed the mirror and looked into it. A healthy happy boy looked back at him from the mirror. He surveyed his face, and then his forhead and noticed..there was no scar!! That's because he wasn't Harry Potter.
