Ch. 2: And Now For Something Completely Different.

This chapter is for my brother, who is going to know the whole plot of every Harry Potter book ever written even if I have to put it all in parody form, dagnamitt!

Sorry this took so long, my teachers don't understand that I have a life outside of their classes. Not much of a life, but a life, none the less.

The morning sunlight streamed onto the gardens and peaked into the windows. It was the dawn of a new day on Rivet Drive. Not much had changed since little Gary had been deposited on his relatives' doorstep. In fact, the only way to tell that any time had gone by at all was the white lettering on the lower portion of the screen. "10 years later" it read.

Gary woke and got dressed, then stepped out of the linen closet, a.k.a. his bedroom. He paused in front of the hall mirror. He was a beefy man, in his late forties, built along the lines of a football player, with a bald spot poking through his neatly groomed, graying hair. Standing beside him was a tall, angular woman with features that suggested more than one face lift.

No, wait, that wasn't the hall mirror! That was a picture of Gary's aunt and uncle.Author's note: when you use a clever little writing device to sneak in descriptions, its considered really good writing. ;)

Gary moved to the REAL hall mirror. It showed a short, skinny kid with coke bottle glasses and really weird, dark hair that, apparently acting on it's own, formed inch-long spikes. His eyes were green (original, huh?), and he had a scar shaped like a bolt of thunder (you figure it out).

Gary really liked this scar. It was a little memento from the freak plumbing accident that had killed his parents. It was the only thing that he had to remember them by, as his relatives had told him that Silly and Thames (his parents, remember chapter 1?) had been members of an obscure religion that did not believe in having pictures taken. Mostly, he liked his scar because it was a talking point at school.

Aunty Petulant was making a traditional All-American breakfast, with bacon, eggs, pancakes, orange juice, corn dogs, and apple pie. Gary paused only momentarily to consider that this was odd, since they lived in England. His aunt glanced at him, and immediately burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Gary sighed and put on an apron. This was normal for his aunt. He threw an annoyed glance at his uncle and cousin, who, as usual, did not make any move to help him.

Uncle Venom looked up from his morning paper, wiped the annoyance off his face and yelled at Gary not to throw things. Studley had ducked to avoid the sharp glance, and now he straightened his pointy hat and commenced eating his cake which had little party sprinkles in it, and "y! hda" written on it. Uncle Venom, done yelling at Gary, looked over at his son.

"Hey! Didn't I tell you not to eat any cake until your party? You haven't even had breakfast!"

"I had breakfast before you got up!" Studley quickly lied, but his father wasn't buying it, "And it's my birthday, so shouldn't I be allowed?" Venom continued to glare. "And umm, this is healthy?" No response. "Mom said I could!" Venom smiled and patted his son on the back.

"Good for you, m'boy! Learning how to blame the other guy is a vital management skill. You'll go far someday if you keep it up."

After this smattering of praise, Studley opened several presents, including a X-Box, one of the Sims Expansion Packs, a pack of cards, a subscription to MAD magazine, and a gift certificate to the nearby 7-11. He was opening a pair of socks when Aunt Petulant came bursting into the kitchen.

"Bad news, Venom, Anna can't take the kid." Aunt Petulant groaned.

"Why the hell not? Does she want more money or something?" Uncle Venom bellowed.

"No, something about her mother being in the hospital, and then she has to give a kidney or something."

"Some people are just plain inconsiderate. She shouldn't have promised to take him if she had an engagement."

Gary was listening with interest. Annapolis Fraggle was an insane middle aged lady who owned about nine guinea pigs, and who loved nothing better than to knit scarves. Gary went to stay with her when the Dungbeetles went on vacation, and came back with an average of fourteen scarves a visit. He hated it there. Ms. Fraggle called him Harry a lot, and made him watch her precious pets poop and make those little eep noises. Her house smelled like Lysol. The Dungbeetles were leaving him there while they took Studley to the circus.

"Well, we can't leave him here. Damn child safety laws," Uncle Venom was saying.

"Oh, like what child-protection laws haven't you broken anyway? He sleeps in the linen closet, we lock him in the closet when we want him out of the way, he hasn't had a new pair of clothes since he was a baby, and none of the neighbors know he exists!" Aunt Petulant shrieked.

They argued a bit more. "We can't leave him in the car, he'll suffocate." "We can't leave him in the grocery store parking lot" etc., etc.. Studley grew bored. He didn't really care if Gary crashed the party. Most of the time, Studley was poking Gary in the back of the head anyway. It was his idea of a sport.

"For god's sake, just take him with us. Maybe we can throw him in the tiger pit or something." Studley spoke up.

"Yeah, thanks, Stud."

And so it happened that Gary ended up at the Flying Cir-cus with his distant relatives and a couple of Studley's friends. Gary got up and wandered around during the act on the pretense of getting some cotton candy. His seat was right in front of Studley and he already had a bruise on his neck from various fingers jabbing into his spine.

He paused in front of the reptile display. How odd, he thought. Most circuses don't have zoo exhibits. One cage had a large, orange boa in it. He looked at the python. Monty, the sign read, is a Brazilian python, native to Brazil.

Gary looked at the lizard. It looked back. Gary propped his head on his arm. It propped its head on its tail. Gary blinked. It blinked back. Gary laughed. It laughed back.

"So," said Gary, "what's a snake like you doing in a place like this?"

Monty jabbed his tail at the info sign. Gary dusted it off, and read. "Monty was born and raised in captivity."

"Oh. I guess you don't have much choice," Gary felt a little sorry for the snake. "So, umm, is there anything I can get you? Like, a hot dog or something?"

"Well, I would really like a large diet coke, if it isn't much trouble," Monty whispered to

Gary.

Just then, Studley and Co. burst onto the scene. "Hey, Girlie, Mom and Dad are ready to leave, and..."

But Studley never did finish his sentence. Monty had asked Gary, very quietly, "hey, is this jerk bothering you?" and no sooner had Gary nodded than Monty Python had launched himself through the open cage door and lunged straight for Studley. The snake didn't hurt him, he just kept sliding, probably towards the concession stands, to buy his long awaited diet coke.

"Hey, the Pyrex is gone!" one of Studley's friends screamed. And he was right. The Pyrex window that had previously held Monty captive had disappeared.

All of Studley's friends agreed that it was definitely the best birthday party ever, and would his cousin be coming next year.

Gary was immediately locked in his linen closet by his relatively evil relatives. He sighed, and turned on the green lava lamp on the end table. Why did this kind of thing happen to him? He tended to be in places were weird things happen. Like when Ms. Fraggle tried to force him into a dress for tea time last summer, and the dress had caught fire. Or when the teacher had tried to give him a detention, and her pen started squirting ink everywhere. Or when he had put lemon juice in his hair and went out in the sun, and his hair had turned bright blue. He sung a few choruses of Desperado to himself to pass the time.

Due to popular demand, I am taking a poll to see who should be the drunken professor at school. All professors are fair game. Send your vote to me via email. (my address is available at my profile)