The Hairy Mushroom
Chapter 2
For those who read the first chapter, this disclaimer applies there, too.
J. K. Rowling owns all the characters you recognize from her books, and possibly other references, too. If any other authors own anything, I'll let you know.
This is modeled after the play "The Bald Soprano" by Eugene Ionesco from the Theater of the Absurd. Absurdist playwrights were generally existentialists; they thought that all life is absurd and meaningless, unless you stick meaning in it somewhere. Maybe I should make that the idea behind the story…
but I like it just fine absurd.
Four young adults (literally young adults, not children) are walking around Eureka Square in California (towards the middle of the coastal area, where the weather is always sunny, except when it is foggy). They are walking in pairs. There are two flame-haired men (Fred and George, who else?), a tall black girl (Angelina Johnson) who is speaking with Fred in front, and George is walking with a petite blond (Katie Bell), behind. Although they are speaking together in a large group, it is easier to maneuver through crowds when there are two lines of two, rather than one line of four. Anyways, the number four is bad luck in China, although they are in England, because it sounds like the words "knife" and "death."
Fred and Angelina seem to have a mutual attraction for each other. Unfortunately, Fred is dating a witch from the US (who is not with them). Katie is infatuated with George, who politely returns her friendship, although he is attracted to Alicia. (Now how the hell would you go about acting that out, I'd like to know…even though I wrote it!)
Please read with some type of fake (or real!) British accent. Australian or Irish is acceptable, American is forbidden. It's necessary to read with an accent, because it's missing something if you don't. Americans speak in such a monotone (I'm included!).
George: Maybe we should stop for dinner. I'm starving.
Angelina: You're not really starving, you know. Not like those poor people in Africa are starving. You don't even know what starving is like, I bet.
George: Alright, I'm not starving, but I'm really hungry. I think we should stop.
Katie: Yeah, may be.
Angelina: The weather out here is really boring.
Katie: I like it—it's always sunny and a perfect 24 degrees. Celsius that is. I'm not quite sure what it is in American.
Fred: Fahrenheit, you mean. American's not a scale.
Angelina: Whatever…it's boring, like. When the fog rolls in from the oceans in the morning, it blocks the sun for a long time. I keep looking for rain.
Katie: Yeah, it's so nice here.
Angelina: I don't know. I could use a little rain. Nice and refreshing.
Fred: Yeah, the weather here is so mild…back home, you always have to worry about those terrible storms…
Angelina: You mean the ones that spring up out of nowhere? The weather can change so quickly, you never know what to expect.
Fred: One minute you're out stretched in the sun, getting a tan, the next thing you know, you're surrounded by a downpour of ferocious piranhas.
Katie: Piranhas?
Angelina (sincerely): Yeah, piranhas. Vicious things, really. Always shooting lightning around in the air. I really hate it when they come in a blizzard. They create terrible magic storms—you get caught up in one, you don't know how you'll come out. Don't want to be outside in that weather.
Fred: It's really bad when they come together in a twister, right out of nowhere. I got caught up in one once.
Angelina: Is that why you only have ten fingers?
Fred (angrily): Those piranhas tore my other 11 fingers right off clean, no blood flow or anything! That's why I'm not married yet, you know. No one wants to marry a freak.
Angelina (bitterly): I know exactly what you're talking about. Why, I was dating a nice guy from back home once, pretty serious actually, but when he found out I was missing my third eye he split, no warning at all.
George (sarcastically): That's too bad, really…
George and Katie continue walking behind Fred and Angelina, listening on the conversation. They occasionally offer a neutral comment, but they have no idea where it is headed. However, they are too fascinated to start talking about something else.
Fred: How'd that happen?
Angelina: It was those Muggle sidewalks…the one's that lie dormant for seven years? I was walking around my great-aunt's neighbourhood, and the next thing you know, a square just jumped right out and tore out my eye.
Fred: Those things are pretty intelligent predators. I mean, how did it know to go for the eye in the back of your head?
Angelina: You've got me. We thought we had them under control, too, but recently there seems to be a resurgence in the number of sidewalk-attacks.
Fred: Yeah, we're having a similar problem with our walls. Our house is made of piranhas…
Angelina: Some fashions never take reality and common sense into consideration.
Fred: Safety and function sacrificed for aesthetics. But what can you do?
Angelina: Do your walls fall apart?
Fred: Usually when it rains. They seem to like to join the other schools of piranhas.
George (totally confused, now): Makes sense. So, who's ready to head to Mom's house? We're supposed to eat there for dinner; maybe she'd feed us lunch, too.
Katie (trying to catch Fred and Angelina's attention): That sounds like a brilliant plan, grand really…
Fred: Okay, I'm famished.
Angelina: Do you think she'll have some of that great oil-based paint stew? I haven't had that in…
Fred: Well, at least since that time we took that lunch date at the Muggle mental institution. Remember, in the padded rooms?
George and Katie sigh, having failed to bring the conversation into reality. They apparate off to the Burrow, followed by Fred and Angelina. Back at the Burrow, the four walk up the walk together. No longer surrounded by crowds, they move into a closer, less divided, group.
Angelina: I remember. Those were really lovely straightjackets you found. I've always wanted one of them; it would be so stylish to wear to that premiere…
They knock on the door and enter the Burrow without waiting for someone to appear.
Scarily enough, this was based on a real conversation, and is not based on the Bald Soprano. The next chapter should be, though.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1. Let me know what you think, will you?
If you're wondering where this story is headed, just remember that both chapters end with the characters heading to the Burrow. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know! I'll try to fit them in.
Chapter 2
For those who read the first chapter, this disclaimer applies there, too.
J. K. Rowling owns all the characters you recognize from her books, and possibly other references, too. If any other authors own anything, I'll let you know.
This is modeled after the play "The Bald Soprano" by Eugene Ionesco from the Theater of the Absurd. Absurdist playwrights were generally existentialists; they thought that all life is absurd and meaningless, unless you stick meaning in it somewhere. Maybe I should make that the idea behind the story…
but I like it just fine absurd.
Four young adults (literally young adults, not children) are walking around Eureka Square in California (towards the middle of the coastal area, where the weather is always sunny, except when it is foggy). They are walking in pairs. There are two flame-haired men (Fred and George, who else?), a tall black girl (Angelina Johnson) who is speaking with Fred in front, and George is walking with a petite blond (Katie Bell), behind. Although they are speaking together in a large group, it is easier to maneuver through crowds when there are two lines of two, rather than one line of four. Anyways, the number four is bad luck in China, although they are in England, because it sounds like the words "knife" and "death."
Fred and Angelina seem to have a mutual attraction for each other. Unfortunately, Fred is dating a witch from the US (who is not with them). Katie is infatuated with George, who politely returns her friendship, although he is attracted to Alicia. (Now how the hell would you go about acting that out, I'd like to know…even though I wrote it!)
Please read with some type of fake (or real!) British accent. Australian or Irish is acceptable, American is forbidden. It's necessary to read with an accent, because it's missing something if you don't. Americans speak in such a monotone (I'm included!).
George: Maybe we should stop for dinner. I'm starving.
Angelina: You're not really starving, you know. Not like those poor people in Africa are starving. You don't even know what starving is like, I bet.
George: Alright, I'm not starving, but I'm really hungry. I think we should stop.
Katie: Yeah, may be.
Angelina: The weather out here is really boring.
Katie: I like it—it's always sunny and a perfect 24 degrees. Celsius that is. I'm not quite sure what it is in American.
Fred: Fahrenheit, you mean. American's not a scale.
Angelina: Whatever…it's boring, like. When the fog rolls in from the oceans in the morning, it blocks the sun for a long time. I keep looking for rain.
Katie: Yeah, it's so nice here.
Angelina: I don't know. I could use a little rain. Nice and refreshing.
Fred: Yeah, the weather here is so mild…back home, you always have to worry about those terrible storms…
Angelina: You mean the ones that spring up out of nowhere? The weather can change so quickly, you never know what to expect.
Fred: One minute you're out stretched in the sun, getting a tan, the next thing you know, you're surrounded by a downpour of ferocious piranhas.
Katie: Piranhas?
Angelina (sincerely): Yeah, piranhas. Vicious things, really. Always shooting lightning around in the air. I really hate it when they come in a blizzard. They create terrible magic storms—you get caught up in one, you don't know how you'll come out. Don't want to be outside in that weather.
Fred: It's really bad when they come together in a twister, right out of nowhere. I got caught up in one once.
Angelina: Is that why you only have ten fingers?
Fred (angrily): Those piranhas tore my other 11 fingers right off clean, no blood flow or anything! That's why I'm not married yet, you know. No one wants to marry a freak.
Angelina (bitterly): I know exactly what you're talking about. Why, I was dating a nice guy from back home once, pretty serious actually, but when he found out I was missing my third eye he split, no warning at all.
George (sarcastically): That's too bad, really…
George and Katie continue walking behind Fred and Angelina, listening on the conversation. They occasionally offer a neutral comment, but they have no idea where it is headed. However, they are too fascinated to start talking about something else.
Fred: How'd that happen?
Angelina: It was those Muggle sidewalks…the one's that lie dormant for seven years? I was walking around my great-aunt's neighbourhood, and the next thing you know, a square just jumped right out and tore out my eye.
Fred: Those things are pretty intelligent predators. I mean, how did it know to go for the eye in the back of your head?
Angelina: You've got me. We thought we had them under control, too, but recently there seems to be a resurgence in the number of sidewalk-attacks.
Fred: Yeah, we're having a similar problem with our walls. Our house is made of piranhas…
Angelina: Some fashions never take reality and common sense into consideration.
Fred: Safety and function sacrificed for aesthetics. But what can you do?
Angelina: Do your walls fall apart?
Fred: Usually when it rains. They seem to like to join the other schools of piranhas.
George (totally confused, now): Makes sense. So, who's ready to head to Mom's house? We're supposed to eat there for dinner; maybe she'd feed us lunch, too.
Katie (trying to catch Fred and Angelina's attention): That sounds like a brilliant plan, grand really…
Fred: Okay, I'm famished.
Angelina: Do you think she'll have some of that great oil-based paint stew? I haven't had that in…
Fred: Well, at least since that time we took that lunch date at the Muggle mental institution. Remember, in the padded rooms?
George and Katie sigh, having failed to bring the conversation into reality. They apparate off to the Burrow, followed by Fred and Angelina. Back at the Burrow, the four walk up the walk together. No longer surrounded by crowds, they move into a closer, less divided, group.
Angelina: I remember. Those were really lovely straightjackets you found. I've always wanted one of them; it would be so stylish to wear to that premiere…
They knock on the door and enter the Burrow without waiting for someone to appear.
Scarily enough, this was based on a real conversation, and is not based on the Bald Soprano. The next chapter should be, though.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1. Let me know what you think, will you?
If you're wondering where this story is headed, just remember that both chapters end with the characters heading to the Burrow. If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know! I'll try to fit them in.