Little Red Riding Potter
This is just me being mad. I wrote it on a sticky, wet, rainy afternoon so what do you expect? I got bored and so started tapping away, and before you know it… here it is! Read on if you're looking for some absurdly weird crap, go back if you're looking for something sensible to compliment your intellect! You have been warned!
Oh… the usual disclaimer: only the insanity used can I call my own… none of the characters, fairy tale plots, M&M's etc etc are mine… (or put it this way: if they were… well, let's just say you as a parent would keep your kids well away from fairy tales!) I'm just taking my turn messing around with them. Oh… I would also like to just state here that Malfoy seems to speak in a sort of Bronx-ish accent… I don't know why… just turned out that way…
ok… that's enough crap from me… lights, camera, booze and action!
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It was 6 am. Nothing disturbed the complete, sweet silence of the early Saturday morning. Little Red Riding Harry Potter was snoring gently in his bed. Then, quite suddenly, a series of ear splitting, high-pitched ringing, which sounded suspiciously like N*Sync's Bye Bye Bye, ripped the tranquility to shreds. "What the!" Harry exclaimed, jumping two feet up above his bed. Quickly, he grabbed the Little Red Riding Phone from his nightstand and jabbed at the receive button, cutting off the horrendous cacophony. A screen appeared, revealing a heavily wrinkled green face. "Master Yoda?" Harry mumbled, slipping on his black-rimmed glasses and blinking several times.
"Of course, me it is, Harry! Called you I have to tell you that see your old grandma you must today," replied the ancient green Jedi on the other end.
"Oh hell yeah…"
"well? Off you go then!"
Harry jabbed another button on the pink walkie-talkie and the screen flicked off and disappeared. He bounced off the bed, hitching his Sponge Bob boxers up as he rushed outside, shouting: "To the Little Red Riding Mobile!"
He got to the little red tricycle and jumped on. The tires led out a chorus of squeals. He started peddling faster and faster. "Weird… it's like I'm not getting any further…." He wondered loudly to himself. Harry looked down. The tires were dead flat. "Oh bum! I knew I should've gotten myself a new means of transport years ago." He got off. "Man… now I'd have to hitch a ride…"
Just as he was thinking that, a shocking pink Mini shot out from the woods beside his house and screeched to a stop right in front of him. It hit the little tricycle and sent it flying through the candy window of Harry's gingerbread house. The driver's window slid down and a pale blonde head popped out. "Yez need a ride?"
The guy was about Harry's age. He was sporting designer shades, which covered up half his face, and a black 'Slytherin Sex God' T-shirt. Harry nodded, dumbfound. "Hop on then," the blonde guy said, motioning towards the back seat with his thumb. Harry did as he was told, got in and fastened his seatbelt. as soon as he could pull the door shut after him, they were off again, doing 160 kmph on a road with a speed limit of 50.
"The name's Malfoy, " the Driver went on, quite conspicuously checking the bespectacled boy in T-shirt and boxers in the backseat out, "and this here's Mini Malfoy." He nodded at the passenger seat. A something, which looked like a living, breathing, scaled down replica of Malfoy, stuck his head and hand out and waved at Harry. "You must be Little Red Riding Harry Potter."
Harry gaped, stunned. "How'd you know my name?"
"Well… the unruly black hair, the glasses, the scar thingy... can't exactly be one of the backstreet boys can it?" Harry was silent.
"It was in the script, kiddo."
"Oh…"
"So… Where're ya headin'?"
"My Grandma's." Malfoy nodded in acknowledgement and turned on the radio. He cranked up Britney's croaking to club volume and started jiggling around, rapping at the steering wheel and singing along at the same time.
"Say, could ya pass me some M&M's lil guy?" Malfoy said to his miniature. The Mini Malfoy made some unintelligible grumbling sounds, which sounded very much like curses and passed the bigger one a packet of peanut M&M's. Malfoy snatched it and set it down between his legs, then looked at Harry through the rearview mirror. "Say, can you toss an M&M's and catch it in your mouth?" he said. Harry reluctantly shook his head. "Then watch and be amazed, cos the Malfoy is going to do it while he's pushing 180 an hour!" With that, he took his shades off, picked up a red M&M's and flicked it into the air, turning his open mouth up towards it.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a gargantuan fluorescent orange object through the windshield. "MALFOY!!!" he screamed. Malfoy turned to look, just as the chocolate fell into his mouth. He made a choking sound. His eyes popped out from his face and he flopped onto the steering wheel just as the car hit the obstructing orange object with a massive CRASH! Harry lurched forward, but was jerked back by the seatbelt. There was an ululating scream as Mini Malfoy was hurdled straight into the brick wall head first, and was hammered into the wall By the hurtling car with a resonate CRUNCH! Blood and bits of brain flew in through the smashed glass, spraying the white leather seats bright, bloody crimson.
Poor Harry sat gasping for a moment, not quite grasping the extent of the trauma. Then he slowly came to his senses. He undid his seatbelt, and leaned forward towards the driver seat. "Malfoy?" he whispered, his voice shaky and uncertain. No answer. Malfoy was slumped forward, lying quite still, his neck hanging at an odd angle. Harry called him again, poking the body at the same time. "Um… Malfoy… Are you dead?" Then it dawned on him. Malfoy is dead. "Golly! I've never seen a dead man before!" Harry climbed into the front to get a better view of the corpse. "Gee…" For a moment, his fascination far surpassed his shock. He started poking the cold flesh and pulling faces at the dead man. Then he started to realise that what he was doing wasn't quite the way to earn himself a ticket to heaven, he stopped and climbed out of the wrecked car.
After having surveyed the area, he found that the brick wall was Grandma's house and the orange thing was actually Grandma herself ("Ohmigod… they killed Kenny… I mean Grandma!"). He also found that the door was unlocked, so he went in.
Behind the door, there was a kitchen - a modern looking one, full of stainless steel and shiny equipment. In the middle of the room, there was a table with three bowls of steaming porridge set out ready - a big bowl, a medium bowl and a small bowl. Harry, being the inquisitive little boy that he is, tried them all and found that they all tasted strongly of soap. (damn. Grandma must have picked up the wrong box again.)
Seeing that there's nothing else to do in the kitchen except play with kitchen equipment, he slipped into the living room. Up against one wall, there was a monstrous plasma screen TV. "Holy sh…" Harry exclaimed, not quite finishing his interjection, as he remembered that fairy tales are supposed to be family entertainment. He started looking for the remote control, couldn't find it, and since there's no other way he can figure out to turn the TV on, he was forced to find something else to do instead. That's when his eyes turned to the spinning wheel in a dark corner of the room.
He approached it. There was a sign hanging on it reading: DANGER! Do not touch needle. Our Harry, never being one to be put off by warning signs and restrictions instinctively dismissed the warning as a load of bull. His eyes were fastened on the gleaming silvery spike, spellbound. "Hmm… this looks like a sharp needle," he muttered to himself, reaching up for the point slowly with the tip of his index finger…
"OW! That fucking hurr……" his voice slurred and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor beside the cursed spinning wheel, doomed forever to stay in deathlike slumber until a prince comes to break the spell and awaken him with a kiss…