"Don't Let Him Out: A Farce"
A rant by; Adelphia Savanya Moore`
~inspired by John Cleese in "Fawlty Towers" (episode 10: The Anniversary)~
Rating: PG-13 (abuse of Mrs. Skower's, Parry Hwotter's foul mouth)
Written: Aug 16th, 2003
Summary: Exactly what the title sounds like .
Disclaimer: I do not own them in a box, I do not own them with a fox, I do not own them while I'm bowling, they all belong to (that evil) J.K. Rowling. I love penguins and homosexual hedgehogs. I also don't own Mrs. Skower's Magical Mess Remover, but I DO OWN the Convivial Hunting Horde, Fred's strainer, the Opium Rainbow Posse, the loud, angry, Japanese Techno in my armpit, and the word "dollop" when used as a verb. I love penguins. Jovial.
Now: I have never been so tired.
You: Have no idea how tired I am. (again, I love Dave Eggers. Great man.)
Do You Not See The Penguins?
Peevsie tripped, sending an avalanche of cookies and a razor-sharp
discus, formally known as the kitchen's largest platter, hurtling through
the air towards the front of the Opium Rainbow Posse. (that's what I'm
calling them. Parry Hwotter is their leader. Their arch enemy is the
homosexual hedgehogs, you see?)
Hwotter heard the powdered cookies coming a mile away, because Mrs.
Skower's can do funny things to the hearing when undiluted. But diluted
is not fun. Hwotter heard the gingerbread men a-marching, and needed an
extra burst of speed to escape. He grabbed Dobby around the neck,
wrenched a spare broomstick out of his ass, and flew on down the hall as
the Thin mints and Samoas smothered the Elvin-army.
Hwotter saw something on the ground up ahead, and jumped off his broom to
get a closer look. Unfortunately, his broom kept going, and impaled Mrs.
Norris at the end of the corridor. She twitched, coughed up a green,
smoky, powder-ish substance, and then tipped over, thoroughly dead.
Hwotter paused, looking through his legs to get a better view of the
thing that lay wilted on the floor. He had no idea what it was, - - - so
he put a funnel into its mouth and poured in some Mrs. Skowers - - -
because Mrs. Skowers never hurt anything - - - - - - -
The thing entered into twitchy convulsions - - - so Parry sat on its
middle, and several of the house elves who had survived the avalanche
began to aid him. Peevsie threw chunks of mushy Trefoils (like butter
cookies) soaked in god-knows-what at the thing, and the Barron drifted
back and forth through it, replacing the jug of Mrs. Skowers with a fresh
one once the first had been emptied.
The thing gave a loud gasp, and bloodshot eyes jolted open.
Everyone backed away, cringing.
The Malfoy cringed, too, moving backwards, huddling against the corridor
wall and furrowing its eyebrows mistrustingly. It belched loudly,
screamed (seeing that the sudden, echoing noises scared it), and was then
still, staring off - - - through the Bloody Barron - - - - - down the
hallway - - - watching the - - - - - - - - -
"RUN!" It bellowed, bolting off and down. "DO YOU NOT SEE THE
PENGUINS?!?!?" And it continued to run.
They turned .
And saw.
It was, indeed, the penguins. Large, larger than life. Purple, pink, red,
orange, but only those colors-the worst ones to see. They wore fleece,
multi-colored jester hats, and wore black, play boy bunny slippers. They
were horrible.
Worst of all - - - they had remote-controlled tanks! Heinous little
camouflaged tanks with roman candles and thumb tacks and turrets and - -
- - - - - oh, my!
They ran.
A/N: the toast-goo has been saved for this next and final chapter, which
will also feature the return of the Convivial Hunting Horde, and the
absolution of the Opium Rainbow Posse. It will be fun. I swear. But
only if you review ! MOOOO-AAAHHHHHH-HHHAA-HHHHAAAA-ha! (dollop)
A rant by; Adelphia Savanya Moore`
~inspired by John Cleese in "Fawlty Towers" (episode 10: The Anniversary)~
Rating: PG-13 (abuse of Mrs. Skower's, Parry Hwotter's foul mouth)
Written: Aug 16th, 2003
Summary: Exactly what the title sounds like .
Disclaimer: I do not own them in a box, I do not own them with a fox, I do not own them while I'm bowling, they all belong to (that evil) J.K. Rowling. I love penguins and homosexual hedgehogs. I also don't own Mrs. Skower's Magical Mess Remover, but I DO OWN the Convivial Hunting Horde, Fred's strainer, the Opium Rainbow Posse, the loud, angry, Japanese Techno in my armpit, and the word "dollop" when used as a verb. I love penguins. Jovial.
Now: I have never been so tired.
You: Have no idea how tired I am. (again, I love Dave Eggers. Great man.)
Do You Not See The Penguins?
Peevsie tripped, sending an avalanche of cookies and a razor-sharp
discus, formally known as the kitchen's largest platter, hurtling through
the air towards the front of the Opium Rainbow Posse. (that's what I'm
calling them. Parry Hwotter is their leader. Their arch enemy is the
homosexual hedgehogs, you see?)
Hwotter heard the powdered cookies coming a mile away, because Mrs.
Skower's can do funny things to the hearing when undiluted. But diluted
is not fun. Hwotter heard the gingerbread men a-marching, and needed an
extra burst of speed to escape. He grabbed Dobby around the neck,
wrenched a spare broomstick out of his ass, and flew on down the hall as
the Thin mints and Samoas smothered the Elvin-army.
Hwotter saw something on the ground up ahead, and jumped off his broom to
get a closer look. Unfortunately, his broom kept going, and impaled Mrs.
Norris at the end of the corridor. She twitched, coughed up a green,
smoky, powder-ish substance, and then tipped over, thoroughly dead.
Hwotter paused, looking through his legs to get a better view of the
thing that lay wilted on the floor. He had no idea what it was, - - - so
he put a funnel into its mouth and poured in some Mrs. Skowers - - -
because Mrs. Skowers never hurt anything - - - - - - -
The thing entered into twitchy convulsions - - - so Parry sat on its
middle, and several of the house elves who had survived the avalanche
began to aid him. Peevsie threw chunks of mushy Trefoils (like butter
cookies) soaked in god-knows-what at the thing, and the Barron drifted
back and forth through it, replacing the jug of Mrs. Skowers with a fresh
one once the first had been emptied.
The thing gave a loud gasp, and bloodshot eyes jolted open.
Everyone backed away, cringing.
The Malfoy cringed, too, moving backwards, huddling against the corridor
wall and furrowing its eyebrows mistrustingly. It belched loudly,
screamed (seeing that the sudden, echoing noises scared it), and was then
still, staring off - - - through the Bloody Barron - - - - - down the
hallway - - - watching the - - - - - - - - -
"RUN!" It bellowed, bolting off and down. "DO YOU NOT SEE THE
PENGUINS?!?!?" And it continued to run.
They turned .
And saw.
It was, indeed, the penguins. Large, larger than life. Purple, pink, red,
orange, but only those colors-the worst ones to see. They wore fleece,
multi-colored jester hats, and wore black, play boy bunny slippers. They
were horrible.
Worst of all - - - they had remote-controlled tanks! Heinous little
camouflaged tanks with roman candles and thumb tacks and turrets and - -
- - - - - oh, my!
They ran.
A/N: the toast-goo has been saved for this next and final chapter, which
will also feature the return of the Convivial Hunting Horde, and the
absolution of the Opium Rainbow Posse. It will be fun. I swear. But
only if you review ! MOOOO-AAAHHHHHH-HHHAA-HHHHAAAA-ha! (dollop)
