Hi, guys. Here's chapter 2, even more random. As always, r&r.
Chapter 2: Idiocy
Snape's expression could only be described as "unpleasant." If anyone would have seen it, it would have elicited shock, and possibly mild nausea. It looked somewhat like the last expression of someone who had died horribly and in great pain. Snape, however, was not near death. He thought he was, but this was only because his hangover felt as if he was being repeatedly being hit with a rather large mallet on the top of his head, with some hits on the side and back of the head for variety. Snape cursed himself under his breath, and such was the oath he used that a dark, hooded shadow appeared before him, stretching out its shadowy hand toward him. Snape rolled his eyes and banished it with a flick of his wand. It gave a final, slightly eerie giggle, and disappeared with a wet pop. Snape half-heartedly tried to kick the light blue car that was perched prettily upon the remains of his china cabinet. He missed by almost ten feet. This put him in an even lower mood, and after he had emptied the aspirin bottle into his mouth, choked, and spat most of the pills onto the floor, he lay back in the chair and waited to die peacefully.
When he awoke, the pain had receded a little, so that moving slowly elicited no more than a feeble mallet-hit on his head. Snape got up from the chair and lit a cigarette which he found hanging from his mouth. The resulting explosion showed him his error: the cigarette was really a mercury thermometer that he had put there that morning, thinking that he had a fever. The explosion was caused by his foolish application of a match to the mercury in the bottom of the thermometer. Snape's eyebrows were reduced considerably.
When he glanced down at his now-smoking clothes, however, his mood lifted. They were deliciously ugly and already were beginning to assume his normal wet dog/bleach smell, though he had only worn them for a day. Plus, the smoke about him gave him an ethereal air that he rather enjoyed.
Suddenly, a paper came through the mail slit at the speed of sound or better and hit Snape on the side of the head, causing him to drop unconscious, but not before he got off an especially powerful Avada Kedavra, aimed at the door and the paper boy snickering behind it. Instead, it hit the portrait above the mantelpiece, which immediately burst into long, loud sobs.
Snape awoke when he felt the pleasant sensation of a tire running over his leg. He yelled in pain and, with a well-placed Accio, broke the tire from its axle and sent it careening toward his head. Snape barely had time to swear, duck, and drink a pint of firewhisky before the tire veered suddenly and reattached itself to the axle. The car whose axle it was tooted its horn in what Snape would describe as an indignant manner. Snape threw his empty pint-glass at the car, which glanced off the hood and broke against the wall.
Using the car for support, Snape arose to an erect position. Immediately, he began kicking and yelling at the car. As if the grievances he had already suffered at the hands of the automobile, it suddenly occurred to him, mid-rant, that the car had been responsible for the loss of his favorite rocker, the one with Aunt Margaret's soul in it. This, as we can imagine, only added to his fervor. Behind him, out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that were almost too dirty to see out of, the sun was setting.