Disclaimer: Ack, just go read the ones for the last four chapters. Thank you. Read the chapter now.
We come to it at last . . . the beginning of the insanity . . . the Marauders decide on their pen name! See, we decided to spread the insanity and randomness on fanfiction.net a LONG time before we could be bothered to actually DO it. We first posted in what, late November? Or mebbe early Decemeber. Anyhow, we decided on our extremely long pen name in early October. Unfortunately, it was far too long for fanfiction.net to accept, so we had to shorten it to what yous are seeing today. Go read our bio if you're still confused.
OK, here we go . . .
Spanish Class. 9th October, 2003.
Padfoot- Pen names, Prongs!
Prongs- Moony, Padfoot and Prongs (or those three names in any order)
Padfoot- Or "Padfoot-dripping-in-sarcasm" I love that one!
Prongs- How about "Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins and Marauders"?
Padfoot. not bad. Add on "Animagi" and "pickles" and it could be cool.
Prongs- Then I vote for "Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins, pickles, Animagi and Marauders". Or, for short, OTCIRBPKEPAAM.
Padfoot- No! I like the long form.
Prongs- Me too. Now we just need to ask Sam.
Padfoot- You meant Moony? I know no sam!
Prongs- Sorry, that's what I meant. Now, we just need to ask Moony. Hah. Ask Moony. maybe you're just a freak. ever considered it? (A/N Ask Moony quote)
Padfoot- Eat some ice cream! And get a good memory charm. (A/N Yet another Ask Moony quote)
Prongs- Now we are ""Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins, pickles, Animagi and Marauders" So it begins . . .
Padfoot- And pickles!
Prongs- I SAID THAT!!!!!!!!! No one listens to me. They all ignore me. *sniff*
Nobody loves me
Everybody hates me
Guess I'd better go and eat worms.
Long thin slimy ones
Big fat juicy ones
Oh, how they squiggle and squirm.
Nobdy hates me
Everybody loves me.
Uh-oh . . .
Padfoot- You have major issues. Way too emotional . . . and moody!
Science Class. 10th October, 2003.
Prongs- *mutters under breath about bloody emotionally inferior, un-creative, inferiority-complex-sufferers*. Pencil, Padfoot? What pencil? The *cough* SHINY pencil? *grins maniacally* (A/N Padfoot has this mechanical pencil that's all shiny metal. Padfoot sits beside Prongs in Science and intermittently zones out for several minutes at a time. Prongs likes shiny things. Prongs is also a kleptomaniac. Two and two make four. Prongs likes to nick Padfoot's pencil and then promptly goes into denial about it. Annoys Padfoot no end. Moony just watches and smiles in a bemused way.)
Padfoot- Yeah, captain obvious! What other mechanical, shiny, lovable, innocent little pencil of *cough* MINE have you kidnapped.
Moony- I have elected to simply nod. (A/N See? Moony's too smart to get involved.)
Prongs- *continues to grin maniacally* Pencil? What pencil? Welcome to our increasingly pointless excuse for a conversation, Moony.
Padfoot- And I have elected to shout rude and insane comments that I shall not write. PG 13, remember people/werewolves/stags/canines/*cough* SNEAKY TRAITOROUS RAT *cough*?
Moony- Well why would you write something that you had elected to shout? Padfoot, you are too supid for my well being.
Prongs- Her own well being is out of the question. NOW, Moony and Padfoot, READ THE BLOODY ARTICLE/ESSAY/THESIS THAT THE TEACHER GAVE US!!!!!!!!
Padfoot- What the he (insert two hockey sticks) is an essay/thesis? Whoa, a little bit slow on the uptake, Prongs. Ha. She who laughs last thinks slowest. Let's get lost, I've been there before. I'm not confused, I look this way all the time. Loads more quotes to come . . . . if you say the magic word. *cough* Calgary *cough*
Moony- Nobody say it!!!
Prongs- Is this another pathetic attempt at a joke that I will never guess because I actually HAVE a sense of humour?
Padfoot- Humour? What's that?
Moony- Get a dictionary.
Prongs- Then hit yourself numerous times over your head with it. When half-consious, look up the word "humour". When your brain (and I use that term loosely) is half-asleep, you might understand it better.
Padfoot- I seriously doubt it. Wanna hear some . . . stuff? Kay, here it goes. Individuality - Everyone is unique, just like everybody else. Agony - Not all pain is gain. Dreaming- There is nothing better than watching someone flying high, soaring on the wings of their dreams, except watching someone flying on their dreams with nowhere to land except the ocean of reality. (A/N I dunno where these came from, but I dun't think it was a fanfic, so never mind)
Moony- Prongs: Or she could use a good Memory charm. (Dunno why, but it seems like the wise thing to say) By the way, go get some ice cream. Padfoot: Stop it with the quotes. Yo're getting annoying.
Prongs- GETTING annoying? She crossed that line a LONG time ago. Shut up Padfoot, I NOTICED!
Science Class. 13th October, 2003.
Padfoot- ^ Noticed what?
Prongs- I don't remember. It was somehting you said last time.
Moony- Damn. Memory Charm backfired . . .
Prongs- DAMN YOU MOONY! STOP MESSING WITH MY MIND!!!!!!!!!!
Padfoot- Your mind? What's a mind?
Prongs- Do what we told you to do to undrstand "humour". But look up mind instead.
Moony- Wrong descripttion, Prongs. She needs to get a brain transplant.
Prongs- That might work too.
Padfoot- I have a feeling I need to try playing Crazy Eights the way I play War. (A/N Crazy Eights and War are card games. Yes, we were playing cards in Science class. Prongs' habit of carrying 50 obscure things in her bag actually paid off)
Moony- You cheat too much, padfoot.
Prongs- YES! Play Crazy Eights like you play War! Then, I will WIN ALL THE TIME!
Padfoot- I seriously dooubt it, eh Moony?
Prongs- *mutters about bloody Canadians, then smacks self upside the head, reminds self that self is half Canadian, then continues muttering about bloody stupid Yanks (NOT Canadians) nicking our holidays) (A/N It was coming up to Canadian Thanksgiving and NONE of the Americans in the school would accept that it was a holiday, let alone Thanksgiving. Moony, Padfoot were in a SEVERELY pissy mood with any and all Americans.)
Moony- Bloody Irish louses . . .
Prongs- Bloody wannabe-Irish Canadians . . . (A/N Due to prolonged exposure to an Irish person who routinely uses Irish swear-words in every-day conversation (i.e. Prongs), Moony and Padfoot have BOTH started saying "Bloody" in a vaguely Irish accent. Prongs thinks this is hilarious and loves teasing them about it. Moony and Padfoot hate themselves and think they're being disloyal to their beloved country (i.e. Canada). Prongs just teases them all the more)
Padfoot- Whoa, rivalry. Can't wait 'til lunch. I'm hungry. Nice to meet you Hungry, I'm Padfoot.
Moony- Nice to meet you Hungry, I'm Bored.
Prongs- You all need to eat some ice cream.
Padfoot- Hey, Idiot, I'm Hungry and this is Bored.
Moony- Bored . . . my ink's running out. (A/N All three of us use fountain pens to write in the Notebook. Prongs uses them for everything and carries roughly 40 extra ink cartridges in her bag, which seems to be vaguely like Mary Poppins' carpet bag. As in it looks normal but holds more stuff than seems possible, including, but definitely not limited to: two rolls of masking tape, a pair of pliers form the Science room that accidentally fell in her bag (No, they really did. She just won't give them back.), seven erasers she found in random area around the school, about sixteen notes written by the Marauders that tend to fall out at the worst possible time and a toothbrush. Don't ask about the toothbrush, she isn't sure why it's there, but she can't be bothered to take it out. OK, enough about the sodding bag, back to the Notebook)
Prongs- Will I go get some more form my bag?
Padfoot- OH MY GOD! HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN DAY-DREAMING? IS IT THE END OF THE WORLD? ARE WE ALL GOING TO DIE?!?!
Moony- Prongs: No, don't bother, Padfoot might mistake it for a) food b) an atomic bomb that will kill us all while she's day-dreaming c) dare I say more . . . Padfoot: No, we will all live to see another Science class.
Prongs- Moony: Very tue. Padfoot: No. No. Go back to being catatonic. As is normal for you.
Padfoot- No more sleep. I've been traumatized! Those scary green duckies . . .
Moony- I thought you were supposed to be afraid of styrofoam?
Prongs- Shut up! Don't get her started!
Padfoot- That too! But . . . yum . . . green jello! But those green duckies are so scary!
Moony- Here we go again . . . .
Prongs- And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep.
Padfoot- You forgot the beeps!
Moony- Beep.
Prongs- Beep.
We'll stop for the day on that intellectual note. Did anyone else think that for the last bit Moony and Prongs sounded like they were resignedly putting up with an annoying younger child they've been charged with looking after? Or was that just me? Never mind, Padfoot's better now, she's gotten over the green duckies. But Moony and Prongs are another story. They'll be traumatized for life.
Review, please! So we don't think we're the only ones who like humour and randomness. Review!
I will now bid you, ladies and gentlemen, good morning, as it's 6:30am on a Saturday morning. Damn this insomnia. Anyhow, good morning all.
We come to it at last . . . the beginning of the insanity . . . the Marauders decide on their pen name! See, we decided to spread the insanity and randomness on fanfiction.net a LONG time before we could be bothered to actually DO it. We first posted in what, late November? Or mebbe early Decemeber. Anyhow, we decided on our extremely long pen name in early October. Unfortunately, it was far too long for fanfiction.net to accept, so we had to shorten it to what yous are seeing today. Go read our bio if you're still confused.
OK, here we go . . .
Spanish Class. 9th October, 2003.
Padfoot- Pen names, Prongs!
Prongs- Moony, Padfoot and Prongs (or those three names in any order)
Padfoot- Or "Padfoot-dripping-in-sarcasm" I love that one!
Prongs- How about "Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins and Marauders"?
Padfoot. not bad. Add on "Animagi" and "pickles" and it could be cool.
Prongs- Then I vote for "Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins, pickles, Animagi and Marauders". Or, for short, OTCIRBPKEPAAM.
Padfoot- No! I like the long form.
Prongs- Me too. Now we just need to ask Sam.
Padfoot- You meant Moony? I know no sam!
Prongs- Sorry, that's what I meant. Now, we just need to ask Moony. Hah. Ask Moony. maybe you're just a freak. ever considered it? (A/N Ask Moony quote)
Padfoot- Eat some ice cream! And get a good memory charm. (A/N Yet another Ask Moony quote)
Prongs- Now we are ""Ode to Canadians, Irish, rabid beavers, pyromania, kleptomania, endorphins, pickles, Animagi and Marauders" So it begins . . .
Padfoot- And pickles!
Prongs- I SAID THAT!!!!!!!!! No one listens to me. They all ignore me. *sniff*
Nobody loves me
Everybody hates me
Guess I'd better go and eat worms.
Long thin slimy ones
Big fat juicy ones
Oh, how they squiggle and squirm.
Nobdy hates me
Everybody loves me.
Uh-oh . . .
Padfoot- You have major issues. Way too emotional . . . and moody!
Science Class. 10th October, 2003.
Prongs- *mutters under breath about bloody emotionally inferior, un-creative, inferiority-complex-sufferers*. Pencil, Padfoot? What pencil? The *cough* SHINY pencil? *grins maniacally* (A/N Padfoot has this mechanical pencil that's all shiny metal. Padfoot sits beside Prongs in Science and intermittently zones out for several minutes at a time. Prongs likes shiny things. Prongs is also a kleptomaniac. Two and two make four. Prongs likes to nick Padfoot's pencil and then promptly goes into denial about it. Annoys Padfoot no end. Moony just watches and smiles in a bemused way.)
Padfoot- Yeah, captain obvious! What other mechanical, shiny, lovable, innocent little pencil of *cough* MINE have you kidnapped.
Moony- I have elected to simply nod. (A/N See? Moony's too smart to get involved.)
Prongs- *continues to grin maniacally* Pencil? What pencil? Welcome to our increasingly pointless excuse for a conversation, Moony.
Padfoot- And I have elected to shout rude and insane comments that I shall not write. PG 13, remember people/werewolves/stags/canines/*cough* SNEAKY TRAITOROUS RAT *cough*?
Moony- Well why would you write something that you had elected to shout? Padfoot, you are too supid for my well being.
Prongs- Her own well being is out of the question. NOW, Moony and Padfoot, READ THE BLOODY ARTICLE/ESSAY/THESIS THAT THE TEACHER GAVE US!!!!!!!!
Padfoot- What the he (insert two hockey sticks) is an essay/thesis? Whoa, a little bit slow on the uptake, Prongs. Ha. She who laughs last thinks slowest. Let's get lost, I've been there before. I'm not confused, I look this way all the time. Loads more quotes to come . . . . if you say the magic word. *cough* Calgary *cough*
Moony- Nobody say it!!!
Prongs- Is this another pathetic attempt at a joke that I will never guess because I actually HAVE a sense of humour?
Padfoot- Humour? What's that?
Moony- Get a dictionary.
Prongs- Then hit yourself numerous times over your head with it. When half-consious, look up the word "humour". When your brain (and I use that term loosely) is half-asleep, you might understand it better.
Padfoot- I seriously doubt it. Wanna hear some . . . stuff? Kay, here it goes. Individuality - Everyone is unique, just like everybody else. Agony - Not all pain is gain. Dreaming- There is nothing better than watching someone flying high, soaring on the wings of their dreams, except watching someone flying on their dreams with nowhere to land except the ocean of reality. (A/N I dunno where these came from, but I dun't think it was a fanfic, so never mind)
Moony- Prongs: Or she could use a good Memory charm. (Dunno why, but it seems like the wise thing to say) By the way, go get some ice cream. Padfoot: Stop it with the quotes. Yo're getting annoying.
Prongs- GETTING annoying? She crossed that line a LONG time ago. Shut up Padfoot, I NOTICED!
Science Class. 13th October, 2003.
Padfoot- ^ Noticed what?
Prongs- I don't remember. It was somehting you said last time.
Moony- Damn. Memory Charm backfired . . .
Prongs- DAMN YOU MOONY! STOP MESSING WITH MY MIND!!!!!!!!!!
Padfoot- Your mind? What's a mind?
Prongs- Do what we told you to do to undrstand "humour". But look up mind instead.
Moony- Wrong descripttion, Prongs. She needs to get a brain transplant.
Prongs- That might work too.
Padfoot- I have a feeling I need to try playing Crazy Eights the way I play War. (A/N Crazy Eights and War are card games. Yes, we were playing cards in Science class. Prongs' habit of carrying 50 obscure things in her bag actually paid off)
Moony- You cheat too much, padfoot.
Prongs- YES! Play Crazy Eights like you play War! Then, I will WIN ALL THE TIME!
Padfoot- I seriously dooubt it, eh Moony?
Prongs- *mutters about bloody Canadians, then smacks self upside the head, reminds self that self is half Canadian, then continues muttering about bloody stupid Yanks (NOT Canadians) nicking our holidays) (A/N It was coming up to Canadian Thanksgiving and NONE of the Americans in the school would accept that it was a holiday, let alone Thanksgiving. Moony, Padfoot were in a SEVERELY pissy mood with any and all Americans.)
Moony- Bloody Irish louses . . .
Prongs- Bloody wannabe-Irish Canadians . . . (A/N Due to prolonged exposure to an Irish person who routinely uses Irish swear-words in every-day conversation (i.e. Prongs), Moony and Padfoot have BOTH started saying "Bloody" in a vaguely Irish accent. Prongs thinks this is hilarious and loves teasing them about it. Moony and Padfoot hate themselves and think they're being disloyal to their beloved country (i.e. Canada). Prongs just teases them all the more)
Padfoot- Whoa, rivalry. Can't wait 'til lunch. I'm hungry. Nice to meet you Hungry, I'm Padfoot.
Moony- Nice to meet you Hungry, I'm Bored.
Prongs- You all need to eat some ice cream.
Padfoot- Hey, Idiot, I'm Hungry and this is Bored.
Moony- Bored . . . my ink's running out. (A/N All three of us use fountain pens to write in the Notebook. Prongs uses them for everything and carries roughly 40 extra ink cartridges in her bag, which seems to be vaguely like Mary Poppins' carpet bag. As in it looks normal but holds more stuff than seems possible, including, but definitely not limited to: two rolls of masking tape, a pair of pliers form the Science room that accidentally fell in her bag (No, they really did. She just won't give them back.), seven erasers she found in random area around the school, about sixteen notes written by the Marauders that tend to fall out at the worst possible time and a toothbrush. Don't ask about the toothbrush, she isn't sure why it's there, but she can't be bothered to take it out. OK, enough about the sodding bag, back to the Notebook)
Prongs- Will I go get some more form my bag?
Padfoot- OH MY GOD! HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN DAY-DREAMING? IS IT THE END OF THE WORLD? ARE WE ALL GOING TO DIE?!?!
Moony- Prongs: No, don't bother, Padfoot might mistake it for a) food b) an atomic bomb that will kill us all while she's day-dreaming c) dare I say more . . . Padfoot: No, we will all live to see another Science class.
Prongs- Moony: Very tue. Padfoot: No. No. Go back to being catatonic. As is normal for you.
Padfoot- No more sleep. I've been traumatized! Those scary green duckies . . .
Moony- I thought you were supposed to be afraid of styrofoam?
Prongs- Shut up! Don't get her started!
Padfoot- That too! But . . . yum . . . green jello! But those green duckies are so scary!
Moony- Here we go again . . . .
Prongs- And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep. And again. Beep.
Padfoot- You forgot the beeps!
Moony- Beep.
Prongs- Beep.
We'll stop for the day on that intellectual note. Did anyone else think that for the last bit Moony and Prongs sounded like they were resignedly putting up with an annoying younger child they've been charged with looking after? Or was that just me? Never mind, Padfoot's better now, she's gotten over the green duckies. But Moony and Prongs are another story. They'll be traumatized for life.
Review, please! So we don't think we're the only ones who like humour and randomness. Review!
I will now bid you, ladies and gentlemen, good morning, as it's 6:30am on a Saturday morning. Damn this insomnia. Anyhow, good morning all.