A/N: Ok- long long long time since I updated, and, with out a doubt, my succeeding installment will take just as long- perhaps even longer. Again, just no plot what so ever. Written for a laugh. This has definitely no end- and I will probably always be writing it. Simpsons quotes remain and more blackadder, another from Robin Hood, Men in tights. Sorry I can't thank you individually AGAIN but I've got to be quick. However I do remember someone saying I had spelt a few things wrong. My bad. Sorry about that. I just run it through the spell check and generally just press ok for everything! My Computer is a little spastic and said I had spelt it wrong. But don't think I'm illiterate! I can spell perform! ENJOY!
Disclaimer:
Chapter 12: The cod piece, Witch weekly and the front page spread of a porno mag
The trio and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley melodramatically sighed in unionism, standing in front of the Weasley's fire place, ready to leave for the first ever viewing of what was sure to be turn out to be one of the many blocked out memories they had of Hogwarts.
"Hmm..." Mr. Weasley spoke to his wife, stroking his chin,"See that hot poker?"
"Uh-huh"
"Do me a favor—drive it through my leg—right here" He motioned to his upper thigh.
"We're going to see Ginny, Authur" Molly said through gritted teeth.
"Damn nation!"
Mr. Weasley continued to look longingly at the poker.
"Don't even think about it, Authur" Molly responded flatly.
"I haven't the faintest clue what it is you're jabbering on about. All I was thinking was, it's a lovely day to be impaled on a stick"
"Don't push it"
"Ron, come here- you're a minor—"
'Authur!'
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The trip had been delayed by an unplanned unexplained visit upstairs by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, leaving the trio time to bide.
Harry exited the room for a quick stop to the lavatory, heard an argument upstairs, and being the earthy male he was, took his piss outdoors.
Harry re-entered the Weasley's living room to a most familiar site- the constant bickering between best friends, which was more prominent in a pair of two-year-olds fighting over a stuffed camel coupled with extreme nappy rash.
"Oh yeah!" Shouted Ron from what appeared to be mid argument at Hermione on the other side of the room, hands on hips, "Well my mum's cooking chicken for dinner!"
"Well my Mum's cooking continental, creamy mushroom chicken!"
"Yeah, well my mum's dead"
"Touch'e"
Minute's later Mrs. Weasley could be heard thumping down the stairs in an enraged state, Mr. Weasley closely following her trail, zipping up his pants.
"Kids- WERE LEAVING! Come on Authur—get a move on—and don't think I'm going to fall for that 'I have explosive diarrhea ploy' again!"
"That was genuine!"
Mr. Weasley approached the trio not far from the dinning table, breaking up their conversation.
Ron, I love you like a son," Mr. Weasley confessed, placing a fatherly hand on Ron's shoulder,"—but that's the last time I ever lift a page from your book!"
"Come on kids," Mrs. Weasley spoke to the trio from the fire place impatiently,"better sooner than later- you first Ron"
Ron's mother shoved her youngest son headfirst into the fireplace, and, had they not been wizards, this may have looked like a modified attempt at 16th century witch burning rather than a motherly nudge. Ron stumbled into the designated area, grabbed a handful of floo powder and stood on the spot, fingers crossed, muttering some sort of mantra.
"Pamela Anderson's bed, Pamela Anderson's bed Pamela Anderson's bed"
"What's that Ron?" His mother said leaning into the fireplace.
"ER- I said, I forgot to make my bed, I forgot to make my bed."
"Oh never mind that dear, just go, I'll fix it later"
And with that Ron vanished in a copyrighted whirl of green flames, with the delusional glimmer of hope he was going to end up on Pamela Anderson's bed.
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Sitting somewhere around the middle of the theatre the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione grimaced- Dumbledore's red leather clad leg could be seen poking out from the stage curtain- apparently as a pre-drama teaser- one to many tassels glimmering in the stage light.
"I hope he tells us to burn our pants' Mr. Weasley whispered to his wife 'these things are killing me"
Dumbledore took the stage with the grace of a wounded wilder beast and the brassy element of Broadway- twirling the microphone like a man who'd done it many times before.
"Good Evening ladies and Gentlemen-"
"--Don't you hate pants--!?"
"SITDOWNAUTHUR!"
"-I am proud to present 'Gonna paint a wagon'..."
And so the horror commenced, leaving the audience much appreciative when the curtains drew for the brief stage set up before the interlude.
There was scattered conversation throughout the crowd as they looked longingly at the doors. There would have been a hurried rush for the exit- if it were not for the fact Neville had established the apparent electric volt charm and lay twitching on the floor, unaided and urine stained.
Ron could be seen by his mother, looking intently at Hermione.
'Oh, Authur, isn't Ron cute?'
'Probably'
Hermione turned around to speak to Dean, who had caught her attention by suggesting disapariation. This always—without fail—sent Hermione into a lengthy lecture, not unlike an epic Greek poem, about how she was the queen of the universe and knew everything there was to know about Dean trousers- Their size, style and for how long his fly had been undone.
Such talk of Dean's trouser parts sent Ron into a wild silent rage. This spout of anger, however, was only currently plain to his parents.
Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband
"Have you noticed something about Ron?"
"New glasses?"
"No. It seems like something could be troubling him"
"Probably misses his old glasses"
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McGonagall raised her finger to her lips which was apparently supposed to encourage a proverbial hush as the curtains rose for the 'entertainment'.
A masked figure could be seen on the stage, his face either obscured by shotty lighting or an attempt at a dramatic entrance.
His body was draped in a cape of red satin, and his genitalia, a purple velvet cod piece encrusted with jewels.
With his underwear on the outside, and his dignity no where visible, he strode out into the platform with the air of someone with a 200 volt battery up their arse. It was at this point a handful of tissues appeared to have fallen out of the noticeably over stuffed cod piece. Most of the female audience slouched in their chairs- the intermission was over as far as they were concerned.
The unknown performer lunged at the microphone and threw off his mask.
There was a collective gasp as Draco Malfoy revealed himself to be the foreigner clad in the various assortments of silky fabrics.
A bass drum could be heard, growing from faint to deafening within seconds. Draco tapped his foot, thrust his hips (inappropriately, apparently, according to the huff from McGonagall and other members of the over fifties crowd) and opened his mouth:
'Two table spoons of cinnamon And two or three egg whites
I have a stick of butter....melted
Stick it all in a bowl baby
Stir it with a wooden spoon
Mix in a cup of flour
You'll be in heaven soon'
'Oh no. He wouldn't' Hermione questioned in disbelief.
'He would' Replied Harry
'Hey everybody have you seen my balls
They're big and salty and brown!
If you ever need a 'quick pick me up'
Just stick my balls in your mouth!
Suck on my chocolate salty balls
Stick 'em in your mouth and suck 'em
Suck on my chocolate salty balls
They're packed full of vitamins—and good for you
So suck my balls'
Mrs. Weasley fainted in her seat. The students burst out laughing. McGonagall knocked Malfoy unconscious with a stage prop (A bucket full of paint) and Mr. Weasley commented on how the amusements had upped their standard since his day.
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At the closing of the production McGonagall could be seen dragging Malfoy by the ear behind a stage curtain.
'They do say, Malfoy' She began calmly, 'that verbal insults hurt more than words. They are, of course, wrong, as you will soon discover when I stick this toasting fork into your head!'
There had been a hasty exit from the theatre into the corridor shortly after this, admitting the entire audience the utmost pleasure of not viewing the succeeding half of the play. This exit left Neville with a mildly disfigured arm, as he had been in the path of the stampeding herd of people vacating the room at the time.
'I can't feel the left side of my body'
This complaint was ignored.
Mrs. Weasley, having recovered from her bout of unconsciousness with absolutely no help from her husband at all, was now ready to leave. The trio had no objections to this, but were having a hard time at spotting Mr. Weasley.
Molly was rather frustrated at this, and gave direction to the trio.
'Right. Now, the sort of person we're looking for is an aggressive drunken lout with the intelligence of a four year old and the sexual sophistication of a donkey.'
'Got it,' Replied Ron, 'now—Hermione—'
But Hermione was too busy conversing with Dean to tell the difference between Ron and a penis pump, which was just as well, because when Ron noticed that her attentions were else where he made another silent fuss.
'Ron!' Yelled Harry
'What!'
'You're frothing at the mouth!'
'Yeah, and your left testicle is lower that the other but I don't make a point of—hang on—wasn't your scar on the other side?'
Harry gasped, grabbing at his forehead.
'I have a scar?'
Amidst Harry's clutching of his face and the fruitless search for his father, Ron attempted to move on in the conversation. If Harry hadn't realised he'd had a scar for 15 years there was no point in shocking him further by telling him it was actually from a waffle iron.
'Ok, you take the left side, and I'll take the right, and maybe we might just be able to find—'
'Wait—how do you know about the testicle thing!?'
'News travels fast Harry, and when you're the centre fold of witch weekly it's a bit naïve to think no-one would notice!'
'...You buy witch weekly?'
'I may have' Ron cleared his throat, 'glanced at it'
'You strange, twisted—'
'Maybe so. But at least I was never the front page spread of a porno mag!'
'That was for charity!'
'Hooters is hardly a charity!'
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A/N: Ok, admittedly this is my worst chapter yet, but it's probably going to take me a while to settle into it again. Sorry again for taking ages, but I've been too busy with school crap to even think about it. In fact I shouldn't have really even written this coz I've still got lots of school crap! Anyways, review and let me know how it was!