Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Bis-cu-it
Harry Potter was sitting in his room pondering life, AGAIN, when he heard some owls. There were about a million of them, they were all bringing him birthday presents, but keep in mind that everyone hates him and he has such a miserable life.
Harry opened his first letter, it was from Ron.
Dear Harry, How can you roll a die with 999 sides? It's just impossible, Man! Ron
Harry pondered this for a while, he pondered, and he pondered, and yet he still pondered. A week later, Harry came up with an answer!
Dear Ron, You're a freaking moron! Harry
He looked over the letter, it seemed satisfactory, so he sent it out.
Harry looked over at the other owls; they were now lying on their sides half-starved. He picked up the next letter, it was from Hermione.
Dear Harry, I hope you are having a good summer. Ron and I were having a sporting dispute on whether dice could have 999 sides or not. I told him they could; they just wouldn't be in the shape of a cube. Could you help us in deciding who is right and who is wrong? Hermione
P.S. - I have also included your birthday present. It is from both Ron, and me. (Ron couldn't afford a present of his own.)
Harry frowned as he put away the letter, why was Hermione over at Ron's? Why wasn't he invited over there as well? Did Ron hate him? Did Hermione hate him? Was his life to complicated for them? Did anyone like him at all? Did he have any friends whatsoever?
Harry shrugged. He didn't care, as long as he got birthday presents! He opened up the birthday present very slowly. He made sure that none of the wrapping paper was torn. He laid it out on his bed, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. Suddenly, like a snake catching its prey, he grabbed the wrapping paper and took a bite out of it.
Harry let out a giant belch and sighed contentedly. He looked at the present that used to be housed between the blessed wrapping paper; it was a solid gold soda can.
"How elementary." He muttered to himself, "I bet it only cost 10 galleons! Ron and Hermione are so cheap!" He opened the soda can, and took a sip, "And it's grape! I'm allergic to artificial grape flavouring!"
Harry started breaking out in hives all over his neck, back, and arms. He began scratching at them while secretly plotting at ways to get back at his so called best friends.
He threw the soda can at the wall, spilling grape soda all over the floor. He figured he'd just make Aunt Petunia clean it up later, what did he care?
Harry looked at the clock and saw that it was 1am, he was now thirteen! He began to jump up and down on his bed singing loudly at the top of his voice. "I'm thirteen! I'm thirteen! I'm no longer twelve, I'm THIRTEEEEEEEN!"
Uncle Vernon must have heard this, because he began yelling from the other room. "Harry! What are you doing? It's one in the morning!"
"Yes, I know, and I'M THIRTEEEEEEN!"
"Harry, please shut up and go to bed! Some people need sleep!"
Harry sighed; the Dursley's must hate him. Why else would they yell at him and not let him celebrate his birthday at one o'clock in the morning? He would have to whine to all his friends about how the Dursley's hated him so horribly.
Harry began to feel tired. He yawned, lay down, and closed his eyes. Thirty seconds later he sat up, opened his eyes, and looked at the clock, no time had passed. He decided he couldn't get to sleep the traditional way so he took his bedside lamp and hit himself over the head, rendering himself unconscious.
Harry Potter was sitting in his room pondering life, AGAIN, when he heard some owls. There were about a million of them, they were all bringing him birthday presents, but keep in mind that everyone hates him and he has such a miserable life.
Harry opened his first letter, it was from Ron.
Dear Harry, How can you roll a die with 999 sides? It's just impossible, Man! Ron
Harry pondered this for a while, he pondered, and he pondered, and yet he still pondered. A week later, Harry came up with an answer!
Dear Ron, You're a freaking moron! Harry
He looked over the letter, it seemed satisfactory, so he sent it out.
Harry looked over at the other owls; they were now lying on their sides half-starved. He picked up the next letter, it was from Hermione.
Dear Harry, I hope you are having a good summer. Ron and I were having a sporting dispute on whether dice could have 999 sides or not. I told him they could; they just wouldn't be in the shape of a cube. Could you help us in deciding who is right and who is wrong? Hermione
P.S. - I have also included your birthday present. It is from both Ron, and me. (Ron couldn't afford a present of his own.)
Harry frowned as he put away the letter, why was Hermione over at Ron's? Why wasn't he invited over there as well? Did Ron hate him? Did Hermione hate him? Was his life to complicated for them? Did anyone like him at all? Did he have any friends whatsoever?
Harry shrugged. He didn't care, as long as he got birthday presents! He opened up the birthday present very slowly. He made sure that none of the wrapping paper was torn. He laid it out on his bed, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. Suddenly, like a snake catching its prey, he grabbed the wrapping paper and took a bite out of it.
Harry let out a giant belch and sighed contentedly. He looked at the present that used to be housed between the blessed wrapping paper; it was a solid gold soda can.
"How elementary." He muttered to himself, "I bet it only cost 10 galleons! Ron and Hermione are so cheap!" He opened the soda can, and took a sip, "And it's grape! I'm allergic to artificial grape flavouring!"
Harry started breaking out in hives all over his neck, back, and arms. He began scratching at them while secretly plotting at ways to get back at his so called best friends.
He threw the soda can at the wall, spilling grape soda all over the floor. He figured he'd just make Aunt Petunia clean it up later, what did he care?
Harry looked at the clock and saw that it was 1am, he was now thirteen! He began to jump up and down on his bed singing loudly at the top of his voice. "I'm thirteen! I'm thirteen! I'm no longer twelve, I'm THIRTEEEEEEEN!"
Uncle Vernon must have heard this, because he began yelling from the other room. "Harry! What are you doing? It's one in the morning!"
"Yes, I know, and I'M THIRTEEEEEEN!"
"Harry, please shut up and go to bed! Some people need sleep!"
Harry sighed; the Dursley's must hate him. Why else would they yell at him and not let him celebrate his birthday at one o'clock in the morning? He would have to whine to all his friends about how the Dursley's hated him so horribly.
Harry began to feel tired. He yawned, lay down, and closed his eyes. Thirty seconds later he sat up, opened his eyes, and looked at the clock, no time had passed. He decided he couldn't get to sleep the traditional way so he took his bedside lamp and hit himself over the head, rendering himself unconscious.