To All of Our Dear Readers,
Sup, yo? We realize that the vast majority of our more dedicated fans have dwindled from the world of FanFiction, because we did, too. In fact, when we decided to continue Crap, we set out to re-scour the bowels of the site.
Which explains why Rudy just went into a coma.
It's pretty disgusting what we saw some of you guys writing. A new generation of terror has spawned from the formerly just-plain-stupid bunch. We noticed even more clichés amassing like a cholesterol-block around the heart that is good writing. We observed new writing styles of awful(osity). Just like a one-winged dove, trying to alight on a branch, it's inevitably going to fall off and die in a heap of ugly, mis-balanced poo.
So, we're back with a friggin' vengeance. THE BOYZ ARE BACK IN TOWN!
Anyway, we've noticed the following and will try our hardest to sprinkle it in wherever we can this chapter:
Long, detailed back stories with no real relevance to what is going on.
Funnily-spelled names.
Super-long, winded paragraphs.
Stupid, trying-to-be-friendly forewords.
Emphasis on trying to "write British-ly" (mostly awful-ly) by using 'rather', 'quite', and 'really'. A lot.
Stupid sign-offs (our favorite: "Ever yours.").
Characters having "cool, modern stuff".
Overly-sweetened, soap opera-style details.
Okay. On to the Friendly Foreword!
DISCLAIMER: Hey, this is our like, 15th fic, so don't flame us, because writing well can only come from experience on FanFiction dot net, not from classrooms or everyday life or anything. This chapter is dedicated to Jesus, because I love him very much and He's always blessed me with a great sense of propriety and social eloquence, as I am displaying now.
Okay, I don't own Harry Potter, and I felt called to say that because you might be confused and think that J.K. Rowling got bored and posted something on a website, when she could make millions by farting on a paperclip.
And, to our one reviewer from last chapter, I just think that it's so magical that you have reviewed our story. We think that you have made our lives so special. You can never know how much we owe you, dear Mighty Lord Moldy-Shorts, and we love you. You hear us? WE LOVE YOU. WE CAN'T QUIT YOU. You had us at "-dies laughing-".
So, (and we SERIOUSLY found this in someone's story during our sour scour) remember the old rhyme, "BE COOL AND REVIEW!"
Hugs, love and kisses,
Kyle, the lover of puppies and sugar, and Rudy, the savior of unicorns and daylilies
Ron gazed rather intensely at the crumpled, light tan with a hint of puce, three-by-four and a quarter inch piece of parchment paper as the golden, shiny, happy, trippy, hopeful sun shone through the toned-down, lacey, betrothed curtains. He used one three and a half inch long finger to rub his throbbing, freckled, silky, milky, creamy temple, which was throbbing with the horrific throb of a thousand throbbing throbbers (not to be confused with robbers). Sensually.
"My… My best mate…" he whispered, crumpling to the floor in a heap of crumpled angst. "He's gone. Forever."
Hermione crossed the room, gown dragging (sensually) against the turpentine-encrusted floor. Her ethereal presence brought a momentary sense of peace and tranquility to Ron's torment, sadness, and general bad mood. "Ron, my sweet, sweet man toy, what brings you grief?"
Ron's eyes momentarily left the parchment shaking in his hands to alight for one swift, sweet, brief moment upon Hermione's chocolate orbs.
She looked back at him. In the eyes.
Meaning they made eye contact. Magical, sensual, therapeutic eye contact.
And then he looked back at his parchment.
(Do you realize we just said… Nothing?)
"Harry's been given a life sentence in jail!" Ron said, pain dripping from his words like rain from the gutter of his heart.
"Azkaban?" Hermione asked, concern filling her eyes and face like blood in a cup of pain.
"No. Scotland Yard." Ron said, dropping his face.
Hermione bent over, picked Ron's dropped-ed face from the floor and replaced it on his skull.
Seamus, stepping out of the shadows of backgroundness, killed the moment with a shot of classic Irish sensibility.
"Well, aren't we a bunch of wizards? Why the crap wouldn't we just break him out?" he said.
Ron and Hermione, still half-trapped in their little "As the World Turns" meets Harry Potter moment, were slow on the uptake of Seamus's suggestion.
"Oh." Ron said after a pensive moment. "Yeah, let's go."
"Okay." Hermione agreed.
SENSUALLY.
AND THUS BEGINS THE LONGEST, MOST UNNECESSARILY UNBROKEN PARAGRAPH… EVER.
Hermione and Ron went to collect their brooms for the trip. Seamus followed behind, but flew backwards when they reached the broom closet, as he is a background character and he's already used up his one line for the chapter. He landed in a box labeled "Seamus: Background Member 6". So, Ron and Hermione left without him. They flew threw the sky, not bothering to enjoy the quiet wisp of wind that whipped the hair from their faces (say THAT three times fast!). When they reached the looming walls of Scotland Yard, Ron began to get second thoughts on their little adventure; what if they got caught? What if they got shot? What if couldn't make it? What if Ron got distracted by prison food or a particularly attractive inmate? HOW COULD THEY SAVE HARRY FROM THE MOST HIGHLY-TRAINED POLICE FORCE THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN? And then he remembered…they had wands. They could turn all the cops into pretty, pretty princesses. And so, that's what they did. As the un-loved inmates had their way with the pretty, pretty princesses, Hermione unlocked Harry's cell, and Ron hoisted the pale, frightened figure that was his best friend onto his shoulders. They hopped onto their brooms and headed for the sky-top Chuck e. Cheese from Chapter 3. After hours of ski-ball and pizza, they headed back to hoggy, warty Hogwarts. Arriving on the green lawns, they decided they should see what SUDDENLYNOTDEAD!Dumbledore was up to. They walked into his orifice…I mean office, and Ron felt a pang of jealousy upon seeing the Headmaster's FLY attire. Dumbledore was wearing the most fabulous, stunning plaid red flares and a clashing plaid flannel button-down under...Could it be?...Was it really?...Yes. Yes, Dumbledore was wearing Mr. Rodgers's red cardigan. How could Dumbledore have it? Why didn't Ron own that piece of brilliance? It was like magic in 100% Scottish lambswool form! Damn that headmaster. Ron wished he was fly like him.
THUS ENDS PROBABLY NOT THE LONGEST, MOST UNNECESSARILY UNBROKEN PARAGRAPH… EVER.
"Where'd you get those sweet 90s grunge duds?" Harry asked.
"None of your business," Dumbledore said, dismissing the question immediately like a butterfly on a lie detector test (this is descriptive writing). "So, good thing y'all came in. I've got news for you anyway."
"ICE CREAM!" Ron screamed, running in circles, dancing in a mirthful fit of ecstasy, and pirouetting in an expression of untamable manliness.
"…No, but that gives me an idea for later," winked the headmaster, not thinking about the ice cream as much as Ron's creamy hamstrings as he did a perfect pirouette. "Yeah, so, you're all going to go with Ashley to Sparkleheimer's."
"…What?" Harry quipped, genuinely confused.
"Sparkle-"
"Sparkleheimer's is an American school for young wizards and witches, much like Hogwarts," Hermione interrupted, suddenly in character. "Its full name is 'Sparkleheimer's Academy for the Magically and American-ly Gifted, founded in 1969 by the late Reginald Sparkleheimer. Really it's just like Hogwarts, except with more buildings, more sushi, and less treacle fudge."
Ron's face fell. Again. After he picked it back up, he frowned. "Less treacle? Screw that." He stuck out his tongue, it froze that way, and he stomped out of the room.
"Well!" Dumbledore said, smiling giddily. "I guess Ron isn't going. How about Draco Malfoy comes with you in his place? After paying no attention to who you do and do not like after 7 years with you, I think you all would get along quite well!" he snickered in his fab British accent.
Hermione looked nonplussed, while Harry started rolling on the floor. "NOOOOO! I HATE…"
The tension hung in the air. Who did Harry hate? Who could it be?
"…"
"…"
"MRS. NORRIS!"
"Harry. What the crap," Dumbledore said, sounding way more like a 16-year-old American girl and less like a headmaster of inexact oldness.
"Also, I don't like Draco." Harry said calmly, in stark contrast to his previous outbreak.
"Oh. Well, too late. Anyway, I need you two to tag along with Draco, as he is competing in the Bi-Wizard tournament. I would come, too, but only bisexual people are allowed to go," Dumbledore mused, darting his eyes back 'n' forth, obviously hiding a deep, dark secret that J.K. Rowling had released months before. "He will compete against the Sparkleheimer champion, one Mr. Sugar Harrison Blade. Sugar Blade is a metrosexual, bisexual Starbucks barista. He also happens to be Ashley's ex-boyfriend."
At that moment, Ashley stepped out from the shadows, grinning.
DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN.
--
Sparkleheimer's was a dense population of gene pool rejects. As Ashley described them, they were not grouped into houses but cliques. One group consisted of half the population, stoners with not much of a future and an even poorer IQ. The smallest, a group of hippie vegans, mostly just made sweet tie-dye t-shirts out of hemp and sunshine. The Goths and emo kids sat next to each other, talking quietly about their poems, underground music, and pain. The preps hung out at the sushi bar or one of four Starbucks kiosks per building (there were 37). Then there was the Ash Pack.
As soon as they arrived, a group of screaming, perfumed, made-up girls tackled Ashley into a well-placed Perfect Landing Mat™. Huffing and puffing behind the general throng of Ashleys was a rather chubby girl with the most expensive but worst-fitting clothes of the bunch. After Ashley like, disentangled herself from the designer-clad knot of Ashleys, the main Ashley batted her eyes at the girl in the back, who had tried to tackle her but couldn't make it off the ground enough to jump. "Hey, Rhonda."
The chubby girl twiddled her fingers at Ashley, bearing a shy smile.
Ashley leaned over and whispered in Hermione's ear, "We only let her hang out with us because her daddy owns three quarters of the universe."
Hermione nodded politely and introduced herself to the group. She understood; she was a RCHGRRL, too, for a chapter.
BUT THEN. Wafting in on the breeze, the scent of hot man drifted like a dove from beyond. Ashley put her nose even higher in the air than usual.
"Sugar." She growled.
And sure enough, surrounded by admirers and cronies of both sexes, the best dressed and best coifed man of all time approached.
Harrison "Sugar" Blade. A name worthy of only such a mixture of unadulterated man and gay combined into one bundle of…
…sex.
Draco covered his fly.
So did Hermione.
Anyway, as Sugar approached, Ashley dove into the Ash Pack for some quick reapplication of lipgloss. She emerged, having changed into Hermione's dress from chapter 3.
Ashley looked disdainfully at Sugar as he passed, taking the moment to ravage poor, unsuspecting Harry.
Sugar merely continued toward Draco, an aura of sheer homoeroticism seeping from his butt hole.
Woo, pheromones.
"Hey, you must be my competition…The Hogwarts champion?"
Draco tried to say 'Yes,' but what came out was, "3-dimethyl carbonate pentyne,"
His chemistry-related psychobabble was lost on everyone but Harry, who thought of a REALLY cheesy line to use later at the opportune moment. Sugar closed in on Draco. "You know what they say, though. If you're from Hogwarts, you're warty. But if you're from Sparkleheimer's…YOU SPARKLE."
Kyle snapped his face in a rubber band.
"Hydroxycarbide!" Draco yelled contemptuously.
"I know what you mean, Draco, I can feel the chemistry between you two as well," Harry sneered, enjoying his opportuneness.
"Oh, Draco's cute, I guess…" Sugar said, flipping a perfectly-manicured hand at Draco. "But I've always liked glasses…"
As Sugar walked away, he blew a kiss to Harry. "Ugh. What a babytard," Harry muttered.
Draco, regaining the composure he had lost so quickly with the advent of Sugar, turned to Harry and said in what he undoubtedly thought was a very intimidating voice, "You. Talk. Now."
Hermione felt upset briefly when she realized that she wasn't invited but then saw an ad for free makeovers in a shop window. It had been like, three chapters since she got one, so she ran in to announce her neediness.
"So, what is it that you want?" Harry asked Draco, twiddling the tassels on his obligatory Gryffindor scarf nervously.
"I have a secret." Draco said quietly. Like, in a whisper, but not quite. "I think I might be…"
Harry leaned in to listen.
All the background music but a low cello note stopped.
Rhonda tried to ask Ashley a question, but Ashley bitchslapped her to get her to shut up.
Everything in the entire world was silent…
But that one dramatic cello note.
Draco closed his eyes.
He opened them.
Then he closed them again.
"I might be…" He paused again, for suspense. "I might be…"
A long pause ensued, but by this time, most of the American students' attention spans were absolutely shot, so it wasn't silent this time.
Draco leaned into Harry's ear. "I'm bisexual."
"Oh, I knew that." Harry said, uninterested by now and thinking about getting some greasy food. "Was that the secret?"
"Um…yeah. Yeah, it was." Draco scratched his head. BUT THEN HE REALIZED. He had an even -more-secret secret! "WAIT! I HAVE ANOTHER!" He yelled as Harry started off.
"What? You're in love with me?" Harry yelled over his shoulder.
"Uh…yeah. Yeah. I am." Draco said. "How did you know?"
"I read FanFiction, Draco. I know all about it." Harry shrugged his shoulders and walked off.
BUT THEN. Just like a brick off the Sears Tower, it hit him.
HARRY POTTER.
WAS.
IN LOVE.
WITH DRACO.
(It should be noted that this reaction complies with Section II, Article IV of the unwritten rules of FanFiction, which states: Whenever one character confesses undying, forbidden, or secret love for another, the beloved character must fall in love with the loving character. The beloved may react in one of two fashions, namely: they may snog the hell out of their lover, or they may begin to feel conflicted about their emotions.)
So, Harry's heart felt…conflicted.
He had so many emotions.
He felt conflicted about them.
That's why he wrote in his MANLY!diary that night, "I feel conflicted about my emotions towards Draco,"
Anyway, so. He would have slept well that night if it weren't for the fact that his heart felt like it was going to explode and the fact that "Harry+Draco+love" has 2,104 results on Fanfiction as of Rudy's most recent search. As he awoke, beads of sweat like drops of water, salt, and urea on his forehead, the only thing he could think about was Draco. We must be meant to be…if 2,104 people have written stories about it, they've got to be onto something…there's no way that many authors could be so far off! There's no way that more than two thousand authors would have pulled us both so far out of character…
And so, Harry decided that he would do something so crazy, so desperate, so completely ridiculous that Draco would have to fall in love with him too.
Oh, wait. He already was.
"AWESOME!" Harry yelled, foregoing any chance at worthwhile dialogue.
__
There is a point in every wizard's life where they must make a choice. A life-altering choice. A choice that is life-altering.
Yeah, but anyway, back to Sparkleheimer drama.
Actually, let's take a skip across the ol' pond.
Ron was musing about life, gorging himself on treacle, brushing his hair, and playing World of Warcraft. His level 24 Paladin marched fearlessly upon hordes of Orcs and crap. He pwn'd them all…shamelessly…and sensually.
Then he got a message from some dude in his guild that said:
TO: 2inchweasel (Ron Weasley)
FROM: Bigdaddycheesecake
Hay dude im at sparkelheimerz and theirs some dude here called Hairy Potter he saiz hes from Hogfarts and I wunndered if you newd him n junk .
Kthanksbai
Bigdaddycheesecake
P.S. When R U going to send me those naughtie pix?
Ron replied hastily and excitedly,
TO: Bigdaddycheesecake
FROM: 2inchweasel (RON)
ATTACHMENT:
Hii buddie! I totes kno Harry Potterz! Hez like my BFF4L. OMG how iz he? I totes miss him omg I'm gunna apparate overz! C ya soon, babe!
Kthnxbai
2inchweasel
P. S. N Joy the PIX!!!! Lawlz (Hey don't send em to n e 1 else, k? Less theyre hawt… Lawlz)
And he did exactly as he said, apparating right over the non-apparation restrictions of Hogfarts…I mean, warts.
Once he got there, he found an interesting scene. All the windows in every Starbucks were covered in his picture, tastefully censored with a little box that said, "BI-WIZRRD TOURNAMENT THIS WAI PLZ K THX BAI!".
Ron…WAS A STAR.
Anyway, he followed his instincts to a stadium much like the Quidditch stadium at Hogwarts but more like the Jets stadium. Inside, he found a huge pool with only four figures inside of it. The stands were full, watching what was taking place on the field, meaning the pool, which was on the field, which was covered with pool.
Everyone noticed Ron immediately, and either ripped off articles of clothing at the sight of his unadulterated manliness and creamy hamstrings or threw their junk n junk at his junk. Junk.
The crowd parted, making a path for Ron to get a front-row seat at the poolside. He saw Draco and some sparkly guy getting it on by way of a fierce game of chicken atop some totally queer mermaids' shoulders. It wasn't your classic game of Chicken – no shoving, no manly muscle striation, just a whole hell of a lot of slapping.
Bitchslapping.
Anyway, it was intense. Especially when the tension became too strong to resist and they just started making out. The two Brazilian-cut Speedo-clad contestants fell at the same time into the water in a splash of homoeroticism.
But sitting on the sidelines, a seething Harry plotted his revenge. "How can that Nancy-boy make out with my man? My gorgey Draco!"
He jumped into the pool with a valiant, "BETCH!" and began slapping the shit out of Sugar's hair.
As in, Sugar used organic hair products made from cow shit.
Anyway, Sugar screamed and left. "Draco! I thought you loved me!" Harry yelled, tenderly picking a sparkle from Draco's bellybutton.
With his tongue.
"I'm sorry!" Draco said, "You were right, the chemistry was too strong! But I really do love you!"
"How can I trust that that was only a fit of the LUST BUNNIES?"
"Let me prove it to you, BABYTARD," Draco whispered, sensually taking Harry's ---- in his --- and allowing Harry to ---- ------- ----- and ---- with his ---- while he --- and ----. "Harry, I want to ------- and ----- until ----- and ------ with my ----- and your ----! OMG!"
(Censorship here, kidlets, is not a bad idea, as you can see.)
They decided that Sparkleheimer's blows and left, while Ashley stayed behind to convince Sugar to impregnate her. Hermione and Ron left first, as they had both already been satisfied, but Harry and Draco continued their illicit romp in the pool long enough that someone abso-flippin-lutely retarded could write about ten chapters of it. Anyway, then they left and everyone was happy…except the families of the children at Sparkleheimer's, because the 46th Starbucks had a nuclear meltdown and everyone died.
Including Ashley and Sugar, her sweet man toy, and her iridescent, voluptuous hair.
Because Rudy and Kyle hate both of them.
THE END!
…of this chapter.
MAKE A CHOICE, BEEYOTCH?!
(To be said with crescendo)
a. Superdumb crossover of Harry Potter and Twilight, which neither of us have read, so you'll have to tell us what happens.
Or
b. When Ron's World of Warcraft playing becomes an addiction, how do his friends help him rebuild his tattered life? Also, what happens when Hermione has an online boyfriend and becomes addicted…to…cybersex?
