Cocabella and Michelle: (glassy-eyed looks) We don't own Harry Potter. We don't own Harry Potter. We don't own Harry Potter.
Charletto: Aww, good, the hypnosis is working!
The Tom Riddle We Don't Know
Garfield, my honie-woney poo,
Oh, how I DESPISE you!
Yet I love you…
Um, or do I not?
Do I don't not not?
Or Do I not don't?
I don't know.
Grammar is not my expertise.
They don't teach it at Hogwarts
That's mudblood stuff if you done gone and asked me.
Eye know no math
I do not lye
I let everie muggle thing pass me bie
I deny my antscesters
No matter who they ain't and can kindof be
I swear, they ain't not my family
Garfield, my honey-woney poo,
That brings me back to you.
X Cuze me while I go to the loo.
I am bak
My arse is clean
And there you are,
Garfield, my honey-woney poo
You are my queen
And though my grammar fails me a lot,
I know that you will fail me not.
I hate everyone.
Except Garfield, my honey-woney poo.
So……….
Avananda Kedoverishiekaplewie!
Oh, yeah, and…
Burn, Cho. Burn.
(Upon investigating the poem and background thoroughly, we investigated the area. And yet we found to our surprise and disgust, several spelling bee medals from Moldy Voldy's school days. After all, De Nile is not only a river in Egypt! We figure that he won them, and upon entering Hogwarts, rejected his bootyful spelling abilities because they were too muggleistical.)
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