He's fat. That's all I have to say. I will not marry a fat man. Man…as if. The day Gregory Goyle becomes a man is the day I become a mudblood. Which, by the way, is never. I am Pansy Parkinson. I am beautiful and my father is rich. What more could I want? Apparently a husband. Oh yeah, that's Goyle for you, perfect husband type. Riiiiight.
Look at her nose. It's disgusting. Pug faced bitch. I tried to be nice to her, she is my fiancée after all. But she wouldn't have any of it, oh no, she couldn't possibly be civil towards me. Afterall, it's not like we're getting married or anything. Bitch. I suppose I should go see if she wants anything.
Why is he being so nice? What is his problem? I knew he was stupid, all Goyles are stupid, but this is ridiculous. Can you believe he wanted to serve me food? As if I want him any where near my food. Come to think of it, I'm surprised there's any food left. Maybe he's dieting. Oh, no, wait, there goes the dessert table.
She is kind of pretty. She might not make a bad wife. Father says she'll love me if I give her children. I don't think so. I see the way she looks at me. I know what she thinks of me. Who can blame her, I am ugly. I probably won't be able to give her children anyway.
Or at least any decent sons. Girls might not be that bad, if they had her hair. She has beautiful hair.
Why is he staring at me? Ugh, I can't stand it. I wonder if he thinks I'm some sort of cupcake? Eeeeeew, Goyle slobber. I hope he doesn't drool when he sleeps. Digusting pig.
Bitch.