From the desk of Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry
RE: REQUEST FOR DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS POSITION
To Whom It May Concern,
It was a close call today. I may have to write double entries in my dream journal about it.
At about five o'clock this morning, I was ambushed by the hideously scarred and slightly worm-eaten Professor Door. It seems I had underestimated his intelligence by far. . .he was able to resurrect himself by amputating the necessary missing parts from hapless furniture around the castle. Now I know why my chair at dinner only had one leg.
It was fierce struggle with the former Professor. He was adamant about overthrowing me in my mission and reclaiming his old postion. I am sure, Professor Dumbledore, that you were not quite as thorough in your background check for this year's applicants as you might have been, else you would have spotted this strange mental defect within your former Dark Arts professor. You may want to check your windows later as well.
After several splinters and doorknob-shaped bruises to the chest, I was able to throw Door off of me and into an adjoining cavern. I was badly wounded and exhausted. When I saw his square silhouette rise in the entrance of the cave, I knew it was all over.
I rushed from the entrance, knowing I was only going deeper into the cul-du- sac that would eventually become my grave. But suddenly, I felt water underneath my feet as I ran. It became deeper as it went on, until I was waist-high in an underground lake. I grasped about for firm ground, and found a largish rock peninsula. I pulled myself up onto it, only to find it was an island, and that there was nowhere else to run. I looked up and saw Professor Door, slowly and menacingly floating towards me over the water. I also saw this sissy-looking blonde guy sinking underneath the door, clutching a heart-shaped diamond necklace. But I had enough problems at the moment without pulling his frozen ass from the water.
Professor Door beached himself on the island, and rushed towards me with the rage of a thousand brass-fitted mahogany entryways. I prayed for a miracle.
And then THEY attacked! Wave upon wave of freshly laundered socks and underwear leapt to my rescue. Apparently, feral laundry hungers for nothing better than a freshly resurrected door. I'm not sure why that is. Let's just chalk it up to irony.
It was a grisly sight. . .the hapless professor, flailing his hinges as pairs of shorts and wool socks overpowered him, dragging him off the island and into the water, where he was never seen again. One lone pair of briefs stood guard over the place where he had fallen.
I was about to leap back into the water to save myself from further attacks, when my attention was caught by a small pair of argyle panties. It seems the article of laundry in question had caught one of its seams between two rocks and was flailing about miserably in the shallow water near the island. I would have left regardless, but something in me felt a great kindred for this pathetic pair of women's underthings. I too had just escaped a near-fatal situation, and it would be more cruel than usual of me to ignore someone in the same plight. I released my argyle brethren and attempted to send it on its way. Unfortunately, the panties, overjoyed at my good deed, have become rather attached to me and refuse to leave my side. This rather persistent, and strangely endearing, piece of clothing now perches on my shoulder and jumps for snacks when I am in the mood to feed it. I have grown oddly fond of the panties and have named it Josephine. Perhaps a pet will lighten my emotional burden during this tedious journey.
I have much to be grateful for today. Not only am I still alive and now very rinsed and clean, I also got to witness a sight few have ever seen: death by laundry. I also have a new companion, in the form of a rather naughty article of girls' clothing. I'm wonder what female resident of Hogwarts Josephine used to be owned by.
Unfortunately, I haven't much more to be grateful for. While trying to make my way back from the island, I was sucked under by the rip tide of a whirlpool and am now spinning dizzily down into the very core of the earth's foundations. With Josephine tucked safely in my pocket, and the deepest, darkest caverns of creation ahead of me, I'm beginning to think that maybe Potions isn't such a bad class to teach after all.
Spinning in Oblivion,
Severus Snape
P.S. Heh heh. Death by Laundry.
RE: REQUEST FOR DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS POSITION
To Whom It May Concern,
It was a close call today. I may have to write double entries in my dream journal about it.
At about five o'clock this morning, I was ambushed by the hideously scarred and slightly worm-eaten Professor Door. It seems I had underestimated his intelligence by far. . .he was able to resurrect himself by amputating the necessary missing parts from hapless furniture around the castle. Now I know why my chair at dinner only had one leg.
It was fierce struggle with the former Professor. He was adamant about overthrowing me in my mission and reclaiming his old postion. I am sure, Professor Dumbledore, that you were not quite as thorough in your background check for this year's applicants as you might have been, else you would have spotted this strange mental defect within your former Dark Arts professor. You may want to check your windows later as well.
After several splinters and doorknob-shaped bruises to the chest, I was able to throw Door off of me and into an adjoining cavern. I was badly wounded and exhausted. When I saw his square silhouette rise in the entrance of the cave, I knew it was all over.
I rushed from the entrance, knowing I was only going deeper into the cul-du- sac that would eventually become my grave. But suddenly, I felt water underneath my feet as I ran. It became deeper as it went on, until I was waist-high in an underground lake. I grasped about for firm ground, and found a largish rock peninsula. I pulled myself up onto it, only to find it was an island, and that there was nowhere else to run. I looked up and saw Professor Door, slowly and menacingly floating towards me over the water. I also saw this sissy-looking blonde guy sinking underneath the door, clutching a heart-shaped diamond necklace. But I had enough problems at the moment without pulling his frozen ass from the water.
Professor Door beached himself on the island, and rushed towards me with the rage of a thousand brass-fitted mahogany entryways. I prayed for a miracle.
And then THEY attacked! Wave upon wave of freshly laundered socks and underwear leapt to my rescue. Apparently, feral laundry hungers for nothing better than a freshly resurrected door. I'm not sure why that is. Let's just chalk it up to irony.
It was a grisly sight. . .the hapless professor, flailing his hinges as pairs of shorts and wool socks overpowered him, dragging him off the island and into the water, where he was never seen again. One lone pair of briefs stood guard over the place where he had fallen.
I was about to leap back into the water to save myself from further attacks, when my attention was caught by a small pair of argyle panties. It seems the article of laundry in question had caught one of its seams between two rocks and was flailing about miserably in the shallow water near the island. I would have left regardless, but something in me felt a great kindred for this pathetic pair of women's underthings. I too had just escaped a near-fatal situation, and it would be more cruel than usual of me to ignore someone in the same plight. I released my argyle brethren and attempted to send it on its way. Unfortunately, the panties, overjoyed at my good deed, have become rather attached to me and refuse to leave my side. This rather persistent, and strangely endearing, piece of clothing now perches on my shoulder and jumps for snacks when I am in the mood to feed it. I have grown oddly fond of the panties and have named it Josephine. Perhaps a pet will lighten my emotional burden during this tedious journey.
I have much to be grateful for today. Not only am I still alive and now very rinsed and clean, I also got to witness a sight few have ever seen: death by laundry. I also have a new companion, in the form of a rather naughty article of girls' clothing. I'm wonder what female resident of Hogwarts Josephine used to be owned by.
Unfortunately, I haven't much more to be grateful for. While trying to make my way back from the island, I was sucked under by the rip tide of a whirlpool and am now spinning dizzily down into the very core of the earth's foundations. With Josephine tucked safely in my pocket, and the deepest, darkest caverns of creation ahead of me, I'm beginning to think that maybe Potions isn't such a bad class to teach after all.
Spinning in Oblivion,
Severus Snape
P.S. Heh heh. Death by Laundry.