Snow days seem to be the best harbinger of crack bunnies. Chapter seven is upon us, and I'm sure that it's gonna get even trippier. By the end of the fic (I KNOW RIGHT, THIS SONNAFABITCH WILL END! O_o) Andrew Jackson's character development may end up with a metamorphosis into the 16th president, Abraham Lincoln, as a result of the news that Ben Walker (sexypants emo rockstar Andrew Jackson in 'Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson' and the inspiration for chapter two and onwards of this descent into insanity) will play Abraham Lincoln in the film of "Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter," based on Seth Grahame-Smith's novel (which I have yet to read.) Enjoy this installment, and expect the unexpected. Always.
The group huddled behind a tree and watched as the heavily muscled, seven-year-old Viktor Krum dragged a scraggly, underfed pitbull behind him on a tough leather leash through the streets of his little Bulgarian hometown. He was whistling gleefully as he dragged the poor dog along, not caring if he made the mongrel slam into trashcans or fallen tree trunks. Which he did.
"Dude, you did that to animals?" Jack the Ripper spat on Krum's shoe. "Thass' bloody disgustin', that is."
Sweeney Todd's eyes were wide and joyful. "Good job, mate." He patted Krum on the back.
Stalin and Hitler were not among the Pensieve travellers, for obvious reasons. Neither was Zodiac, who was probably still asleep at the table.
"All right, party's over," sighed Satan. He snapped his fingers, and the memory ended. The group was back in the chamber. They all sat down again, and Stalin and Hitler, half-naked from the waist up, clambered back from under the table and into their seats. They were smiling widely. Hitler's mustache had gone askew, as had Stalin's. They were awfully sweaty.
Suddenly, strains of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony started to play from somewhere, and a long silver pole descended from above. On the pole, doing a rather suggestive striptease routine, was Alex DeLarge. His bowler hat snug on his blue-eyed, maniacal face, he spun round and round until he landed, feet first, on the pentagram table.
"Wassup, me droogs?" said Alex, happily. He high-fived Vlad the Impaler, who didn't really understand who this miscreant was but was glad to see him anyway.
"Hello, Alex!" said Satan with a smile, welcoming Alex into the club. "At long last, you've made it down here!"
"Yeah. Me gulliver's havin' quite a painin', but otherwise I'm good." Alex smiled widely, and sat down next to Krum. He punched the Bulgarian's shoulder playfully. "Wass yer name, stranger?"
"Introductions shall be made later," announced Satan, settling everyone down. "I have some important news for Mr. Krum and President Jackson. I have received word from my compatriot Saint Peter up in the Heavens that you are in store for a visit by the Holy Evaluator himself, Anubis, to reweigh your hearts and see if you truly belong down here."
"My big break!" shouted Krum and Andrew Jackson, simultaneously standing up in their seats. They cast rival glares at each other from across the table.
"Why do you two want to go?" begged Tonks, pulling at the cuff of AJ's tight, tight jeans. "You're my only friends here!" Her hair turned mousy brown and formed into a shady, long-haired cut with long bangs. Her eyes glimmered with sad, fiery tears from behind them.
"I haff done nothing wrong," said Krum confidently. "The nuclear energy that the Korean Quidditch team used to kill me vas probably to blame."
"And I'm Andrew fucking Jackson, an American hero who needs to be remembered in the most patriotic way possible: a Broadway musical!" Andrew Jackson pulled a mic from his back pocket. "That's right, motherfuckers, Jackson's going to Broadway!" He started to sing into the microphone.
"John Adams tried to be an American Idol, Thomas Jefferson tried to be a rock star, James Madison tried to make the presidency vital, and James Monroe was a douchebag!"
Tonks clapped wildly when he finished singing the snippet.
Andrew turned to Tonks and pulled her close to him. "Someday, my dear, when the time is right, I swear, I'm gonna fill you with hot, sweet popula-jizz-m!" He kissed her passionately, the only person besides Rachel Donelson Robards or Martin van Buren who ever understood him. Tonks kicked her foot up behind her in the passion of it all. Voldemort and Bellatrix were making out too, but no one really wanted to watch Noseless and Crazy Bitch eat eachother's faces for the four-hundredth time.
The sky above them was darkening, trumpets were blaring, and the Hell Gate opened. Light streamed from the crack in the door. Someone was coming. From the Heavens or the Mainland, they weren't sure. But someone was coming nonetheless…
Next time, the conclusion (?) to this epic saga of gore, craziness, and insanity. All will be revealed….? Will Andrew Jackson really turn into Abraham Lincoln? Will Krum go to Heaven after all the animal cruelty he did as a child? Will Hitler and Stalin have a happy announcement to make? Will this fic really end, for reals?
I don't know.
MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Until next time!
