HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDERING OF THE PIZZA
Most of these characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had been ruminating upon the
moral aspects of fairy tales; it seemed to her that there really
was no ethical code for anyone in stories like "Hansel And Gretel."
The children survived by shoving the witch in her own oven. Granted,
she wanted to eat them. It came down to evil for evil,really. Then
you got into stories like "Beauty And The Beast" where-
Someone knocked on the doors.
She strode down the hall,as quickly as she could. She passed a
pair of students-one of them was Dean Thomas; the other one's name
escaped her,somehow-on their way to a class. She gave them stern
but approving looks on her way to the doors.
She opened the doors. A warm breeze drifted into the hall. It
smelled like ozone,and she knew it would be raining soon.
There was a thin young man on the doorstep,holding a package that
was much too large for him. He wore a jet black uniform emblazoned
with a big green dragon shooting a fireball out of its nostrils.
The boy himself had dyed his hair blue; it clashed with his bad skin.
He had so many pimples,he could have played connect-the-dots with them. The patch on his shirt read MIKE.
"May I help you?"
"Dragonfire Pizza,Ma'am. Half plain cheese,half sausage. Twelve
sickles." His voice kept cracking.
"You must be mistaken," she said. "No one here ordered-"
"I got a reciept here," he whipped out a piece of paper. "Extra
extra large,half cheese,half sausage. My arms are getting numb.
Could you possibly-"
"Is there a problem,Professor McGonagall?"
Professor McGonagall turned. She wondered how long Albus had been
standing behind her. "Someone has ordered a pizza,Professor Dumbledore."
He looked utterly amused. "I wasn't aware of any pizzerias around
here."
Mike stuck his head around the woman. "Dragonfire Pizza,sir. We just opened last week,in Hogsmeade."
"Ah. I see. Well,supporting new local business is always an honor. How much do we owe you?"
"Twelve sickles,sir."
Dumbledore handed him twenty sickles. "Keep the change."
"Thanks," Mike said. Dumbledore nodded,and closed the door.
A moment later,thunder rumbled in the distance.
Most of these characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had been ruminating upon the
moral aspects of fairy tales; it seemed to her that there really
was no ethical code for anyone in stories like "Hansel And Gretel."
The children survived by shoving the witch in her own oven. Granted,
she wanted to eat them. It came down to evil for evil,really. Then
you got into stories like "Beauty And The Beast" where-
Someone knocked on the doors.
She strode down the hall,as quickly as she could. She passed a
pair of students-one of them was Dean Thomas; the other one's name
escaped her,somehow-on their way to a class. She gave them stern
but approving looks on her way to the doors.
She opened the doors. A warm breeze drifted into the hall. It
smelled like ozone,and she knew it would be raining soon.
There was a thin young man on the doorstep,holding a package that
was much too large for him. He wore a jet black uniform emblazoned
with a big green dragon shooting a fireball out of its nostrils.
The boy himself had dyed his hair blue; it clashed with his bad skin.
He had so many pimples,he could have played connect-the-dots with them. The patch on his shirt read MIKE.
"May I help you?"
"Dragonfire Pizza,Ma'am. Half plain cheese,half sausage. Twelve
sickles." His voice kept cracking.
"You must be mistaken," she said. "No one here ordered-"
"I got a reciept here," he whipped out a piece of paper. "Extra
extra large,half cheese,half sausage. My arms are getting numb.
Could you possibly-"
"Is there a problem,Professor McGonagall?"
Professor McGonagall turned. She wondered how long Albus had been
standing behind her. "Someone has ordered a pizza,Professor Dumbledore."
He looked utterly amused. "I wasn't aware of any pizzerias around
here."
Mike stuck his head around the woman. "Dragonfire Pizza,sir. We just opened last week,in Hogsmeade."
"Ah. I see. Well,supporting new local business is always an honor. How much do we owe you?"
"Twelve sickles,sir."
Dumbledore handed him twenty sickles. "Keep the change."
"Thanks," Mike said. Dumbledore nodded,and closed the door.
A moment later,thunder rumbled in the distance.