(Demented Chapter Number Three)
In all due respect to Kurt Cobain , this was written, but for the purpose of comedy. In reality, may he rest in peace.
Dudley was crashed out on his mattress of chicken murder, Nirvana blaring from the speakers next to him. A paranoid Petunia, in a fluster, came upstairs, banging on his door.
"Dud! Dudley! Are you alright! Don't make me come in there!" All she got in reply were snores, so she resulted to the pickaxe she kept in her belt- just in case. She brutally hacked down the door, and in a matter of minutes was safely inside, violently shaking her son.
"DUDLEY! DUDLEY! GET UP, GET UP, GET UP, BEFORE I CALL IN THE DOCTOR!" she shook him, and shook him, and shook him, but got no response; no sign of movement at all. She then, for the first time, took notice of the music playing, and picked up the CD case.
"Nirvana! My son is emotionally unstable? Nooooo!" In fury, she shouted up at the ceiling, "I blame YOU, Kurt Cobain!"
Not thirty seconds passed before the ghost of Dave Grohl appeared before her, and shouted with rage, "Now you'll get yours, hater...After all, it's times like these..."
Petunia was so scared that it took her a moment to realize-
"You're not Kurt!" Came the ghost impatiently,
"I know that. Kurt is currently roaming the halls of Courtney Love's mansion, trying to scare the begeses out of her...so I came instead. But anyway... AVADA KEDAVRA!"
"Nooooooooo!" screeched Petunia, before falling onto another mattress, thereby adding more manslaughter to her son's room.
Dave Grohl looked at the clock that had just turned to "five."
"Five o' clock...dinner...I'm out." With that, he popped! out of the room. Dudley woke with a start.
"Oh boy, five o' clock..."