Dearest Hermione,
If only the world were as beautiful as you, perhaps I wouldn't be-you know- dead. But I am, so I'll explain.
Why I Died On My Summer Holiday
By: Harry James Potter
My summer vacation wasn't going as well as I would have liked. My Godfather met his demise and it was kinda, a little bit, partially, all my fault. Then I got this crazy, power-hungry, red-eyed creep out to get me. Not to mention my cousin gave me a perm in his newest aspirations to be a beautician. Due to this decreasing trend of happy occurrences, I figured it'd be best to kick the bucket. Ironically, it's the lack of a grim- looking object in my life that throws into sharp relief my desire to die. Sorry for any inconvenience.
.
So, I find myself, pen in hand, scribbling this final letter to my- everything-in hopes that she will heed my last wishes.
First, Hermione, I ask of you to be my messenger. As I near to the end, I am enlightened on what to do to better the lives of my fellows, since mine obviously isn't going anywhere but down.
Force Snape to wash his hair. Personally I think he'd look hot with corn- rows, but just make him wash it. He'd have a much better chance with McGonagall. I know he's been eyeing her, he can't deny it.
Tell Remus to get himself a girl. Trelawney, Ginny, some old flame, I don't care who. Just have himself get one. Girls are good. Very good, I've discovered. Particularly when....er, just have him use his imagination.
Next we have Neville. Tell him that he's a prat. I know his parents were great, and I should be telling him to believe in himself. But he's hopeless so he may as well retire into the muggle world. America preferably, he'll fit in there.
You won't understand this, but tell Ron to pick an orange and pink impatient out of my yard, stick it behind his left ear and flaminco dance. He'll understand.
Now, finally, my dear Hermione. I wish you all the love in the world. Don't cry for me, move on. Forget me and give your heart to someone else. I die peaceful (or as peaceful as suffocation can be) knowing you will heed my words. I love you with all my heart, so believe me when I say be a whore. Be the best whore you can be. Guys love sluts. Start ASAP. No guy could resist you with you hair smoothed out, heavy eye make-up, low-cut shirts and a mini-skirt, mmmmmm, I mean, that's what most guys go for. I love you because of your great, uh, personality. Yeah.
Cheerio,
Harry
P.S. At the funeral, make it a closed coffin. I don't want anyone to see my hair.
If only the world were as beautiful as you, perhaps I wouldn't be-you know- dead. But I am, so I'll explain.
Why I Died On My Summer Holiday
By: Harry James Potter
My summer vacation wasn't going as well as I would have liked. My Godfather met his demise and it was kinda, a little bit, partially, all my fault. Then I got this crazy, power-hungry, red-eyed creep out to get me. Not to mention my cousin gave me a perm in his newest aspirations to be a beautician. Due to this decreasing trend of happy occurrences, I figured it'd be best to kick the bucket. Ironically, it's the lack of a grim- looking object in my life that throws into sharp relief my desire to die. Sorry for any inconvenience.
.
So, I find myself, pen in hand, scribbling this final letter to my- everything-in hopes that she will heed my last wishes.
First, Hermione, I ask of you to be my messenger. As I near to the end, I am enlightened on what to do to better the lives of my fellows, since mine obviously isn't going anywhere but down.
Force Snape to wash his hair. Personally I think he'd look hot with corn- rows, but just make him wash it. He'd have a much better chance with McGonagall. I know he's been eyeing her, he can't deny it.
Tell Remus to get himself a girl. Trelawney, Ginny, some old flame, I don't care who. Just have himself get one. Girls are good. Very good, I've discovered. Particularly when....er, just have him use his imagination.
Next we have Neville. Tell him that he's a prat. I know his parents were great, and I should be telling him to believe in himself. But he's hopeless so he may as well retire into the muggle world. America preferably, he'll fit in there.
You won't understand this, but tell Ron to pick an orange and pink impatient out of my yard, stick it behind his left ear and flaminco dance. He'll understand.
Now, finally, my dear Hermione. I wish you all the love in the world. Don't cry for me, move on. Forget me and give your heart to someone else. I die peaceful (or as peaceful as suffocation can be) knowing you will heed my words. I love you with all my heart, so believe me when I say be a whore. Be the best whore you can be. Guys love sluts. Start ASAP. No guy could resist you with you hair smoothed out, heavy eye make-up, low-cut shirts and a mini-skirt, mmmmmm, I mean, that's what most guys go for. I love you because of your great, uh, personality. Yeah.
Cheerio,
Harry
P.S. At the funeral, make it a closed coffin. I don't want anyone to see my hair.