LMAO…Check out this review…

Wait... Is this humor/parody? (Good job, you figured it out!)

Because I am not laughing. (Really? I'm just laughing at this review…) It's been done before (When you think about it, every idea has been done before on do you expect me to go through all 236296 (as of March 13, 2006 at 3.35 pm eastern time) fanfics? Jesus, Mary and Joseph!), the name changes were amateurish (This isn't a word), your grammer (Ever heard of a spell checker, in addition to the fact that my mother is an English teacher and the English Language and its grammar with an a has been pounded into me since I could read at the age of three) was atrocious, and your story telling ability is minimal at best. (Hey stupid—It's supposed to be minimal. I wasn't the one who wrote the book, I'm poking fun at it, because I'm so obsessed with it.)

With that said, I hope you fall off a horse and hit your head...(You made a rhyme! And yes, I have fallen off a horse. And dragged. And dropped repeatedly as a baby, lost my marbles, one banana short of a bunch…all of it…) It may yet knock some writing ability into you. (Yet? Go read some of my other fics, stupid)

watches as your Boston Terrier humps your leg (What the fuck?…and if you know me, you know that is not a word I generally use…I'm such a badass…)

As you may have figured out, all the stuff in bold were my comments. Unfortunately, this person was too sheepish to leave an email address or ahem get an account, so I can't pm her. I assume it's a her. Or an it. Prolly an it.

In short, don't mess with me, bee-ahtch! xD

Happy Pooper and the Sort of Stoned Magician, Chapter 6

Happy and Rubble hopped off the train. And then Hellgrill shows up and he's all, "Firs' years this way!" And, even though Happy would be in sixth grade by now if he were in America, he totally understands that he's a first year and follows Hellgrill.

"Are you sure we should be rowing to school? It hurrrrrrrrts and it's, lyke, totally bad for my baby-butt soft hands!" said Rubble Whistle.

"Ooooh you have baby-butt soft hands? Let me feel, let me feel!" Hellgrill squealed.

Eventually, they made it to the castle.

"We have to take a test!"

"Oh man, please tell me it's not like the New York State Tests!" (If you live in New York and went to a public school for at least a year, you would definitely know how awful they are, and how evil, and how scarring, and evil. Kindergarten, 2nd grade, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, 8th grade, and then there are craploads of Regents

Wanna hear a funny story about my 4th grade state test? Of course you do. I got done filling in those goddamn bubbles, and then I was bored so I connected the dots and made a kitty-cat. And my teacher asploded on me. And I had to take it again.)

"Oh dear God, now you have me really worried!"

McCatawall came in.

"You will all be sorted."

And then they entered the Great Hall.

"Amyson, Amy!"

"Huffpowder!"

"Bobson, Bob!"

"Racycod!"

"Chesterson, Chester!"

"Slimybits!"

"Dickson, Dick!"

"Gruesomedoor!"

"Emilson, Emily!"

"Huffpowder!"

"Fredson, Fred!"

"Racycod!"

"Galeson, Gale!"

"Slimybits!"

"Hannason, Hanna!"

"Gruesomedoor!"

"Psst. Dyathink he's just going in order? Huffpowder, Racycod, Slimybits, Gruesomedoor, it just keeps going on in, lyke, a pattern-type thingie!" said Rubble excitedly.

And so on and so forth until,

"Pooper, Happy!"

And Happy heard voices. This would not be the first time in his pathetic little life.

"You are angsty. Be in Slimybits!"

"No!"

"You are useless. Be in Huffpowder!"

"No!"

"Everybody forgets you in fics. Be in Ravenclaw!"

"No!"

"Fine. Be cool and go to…GRUESOMEDOOR!"

"Hey...how come you only shouted it to the world for me, and not anybody else?"

"Because the author happened to remember the Caps lock when she got down here, and was too lazy to go back and change it.

Of course, as luck would have it, Rubble and Herpesninny got into Gruesomedoor, too.

Aww. Lovesick.

And now, I must leave, because the girl next to me in the computer lab has way too much perfume on and I think I shall hurl.