Ah tuet. I tueted, yikes. So Harry right, he was walkin'b and dint know what was up. COlon is in the pooper currently in current times. Colin creavy. (sp?) HArry was accidentally being chased by raptors alll damn day! Ya.

THANKS U FOR SUBSCRIBING TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FoR MORE CONTENT.

(liek, combmnet, subscgribe ;))

"Can u pleese stop beinG a nuisance!" sighed harry to those raptors. Pesky sswap he swatted at those raptors.

*Wap*

*Wap*

*Wave*

HE FLICKED HIS WROTST AT THEM.

Running straight forward, the raptors were scared. Harry was cumbing straight for them, but it was like he didnt realize or something. His eyez were closed.

Harry was being lightly shaken, and stirred awake by none other than Dobby, that house elf we mentioned before with the crumb sack dress and poop stains? Member?

"Mister Potter! Mister Potter!" Dobby meekly hissed, much like a hiss-toot. He gleeked a lil as he did this, getting some spittle and spilling some piddle in the process. When Harry didn't wake up, Dobby knew something was wrong.

He was in a comba!

Dobby tried pinching Harry's eyelids, and putting stuff in them, such as some sand, in order to wake him up. He ain't the sandman though.

Harry woke up from what we here at the studio like to call an "actor's coma" which is where you were just tired from filming the day before but since ur an attention whore uh you pretend it was a coma to get attention you see. Many actors use this process.

The RAisin he was so tired was because the grreat british bake off of the century happened the night before.

Harry saw before him, a prince. Or at least Dobby, but in his eyes, he was a prince. Dobby had a little bit of earewax stuck to his eyelashes. He has eyewax, too, but trust me, this was earwax. He also suffered from eye mites. His one hair was also messed up.

Dobby scratched his hed with his razor sharp nails and bled on the pillow and his nail broke off into his head wound.

"Aw babe, why didn't ye tell me my hair was messed up?" Dobby smiled into his pillow. It smelled like hedwig and head grease. Hedwig's shit was everywhere bc Harry is a very bad owner.

"Hon, all I see in front of me is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with." Harry sighed in ecstasy and a sense of belonging.

"Oh, sorry sir." Dobby put down the 11"x17" full color photograph of Jennifer Lawrence that he had held up over his face.

"Oh, yeah, you look nasty. You should wash up."

While Dobby went into the communal shower in the boy's dormitory, Harry got up and did some small chores. He filled hedwig's bowl up with fresh pub mix and mountain dew in their waterbottle. Hedwig hated it but pretended to like it so that Harry wouldn't steal their soul. Harry had that power.

He also ascended, and then he descended into hell and was seated at the right hand of the Father of Darkness, and he will one day rise again to judge the living and claim the souls of the dead. He is Satan's son and is 's one of his morning chores.

Then he yelled violently at all the other boys in the dormitory until they all left the room, scared and pee-pee covered. Most of the boys went into the computer room to use floppy disks, aim, make IMVU avatars and meet other hot emo chicks, learn how to type, do solitaire club, keyboard cleaning club, and the keyboard-cleaner-huffing club. Some of them also checked the Huffington Post, which was the only website that wasn't locked or restricted. They had to hack to use IMVU, thus, in turn, they created a coding club. There was also the oating club, which was just a sub-club of the Oat Traffic club, which was a sub-club of the coding club. There's also sub-sub-club clubs, and, in turn, subs of those clubs, individually. Unrelated, there was a substitute teacher club, which met up with the sub clubs weekly to drink club sodas and order sub sandwiches for the sub clubs and club sandwiches for the club clubs from GrubHub.

They try not to club one another, but sometimes they get into fist fights and need to use club soda to clean the blood from their slub-knit gloves.

Harry was there, in the corner of the ceiling, secretly watching them, deciding whose soul to harvest first when the end of days come.

Dobby, freshly showered and still soaking wet and naked, was there too, hanging from the claw that comes out of his rear end. Dobby was also doing a salsa-robot fusion dance, rickety-like. It was uncanny.

Harry lost his grip and fell really hard onto the wooden floor, and farted into Neville's cup of yogurt. It splurted. Neville giggled uncontrollably and blushed a lot and was quite shy.

Since Harry was finished with his morning ritual, he took to the streets of Hogsmeade and wore scrubs out just in case. He went to the nearest news outlet or magic news outlet that he cuh see. It was Rear Skeeter's magic news paper . Harry went down on all fours and sprinted at a snail's pace but much like a jaguar (the CAR) went fast. He growled angrily (but he didn't need to sigh bc he technically wasn't talking, but he did a little one anyway for good measure) at Rear, and eventually leaked the scandal and the sandal to her about all that death and shit awnd the crackers and the rats, and the clubs. She was cool with it and came to investigate bc she's cool like that.

Rear came into the school, busting a nut and busting the door down. She looked fierce. She was wearing onion skin-covered bottom of her feet, tights that said "Ogres have layers" on the butt;0cheecks, a lampshade around her neck to prevent her from scratching her vaginosis, oven mitts taped permanently around her hands to stop her from scratching her shingles on her left shoulder blade and chicken pox, a cute tight dress, skin tight over her curves, with a cutout of a heart over her tight, tight rear. She had earrings that were made out of asbestos and shaped like a thumb's up and a thumbs down. We all got a lil angel and devil on our shoulders. And so did she, custom made angel and devil statues all over her shoulders which is proabbyl not helping the shingles. She had a crown made of seven porcelain babies, and cosplayed as a dinosaur on the weekends. When she wasn't cosplaying, she wore real rhino-fur studded nipple-guards and Charmander. Her hair was limp and greasy and looked cute! She had a pebble-filled beanie baby that was charmed to come to life and write her stories for her. She had some tooth piercings and the chains extended down to the propane tank that was chained to her ankle, which she wore bc she was on probation and they ran out of probation ankle bracelets. Propanetion.

She strutted down the hall asbestos she could with the propane tank. Dress for success, some say. She knocked on Dumbledoor's door, which dumbled over on its hinges instantly, and she mumbled,

"Cumb out and speak, maestro? Let's get ready to rumble? I want you to tell me the whole truth about why children have been dying of dysentary in a first rate school?"

Dumbleddore stumbled into the hallway, fumbling with his 3 four lokos, humbly questioning which one he should use for the advertisement. He was wearing a crumbly four loko-print pillbox hat, a four loko-print mantel, and some four loko shoes or something. Uggs, maybe? He was wearing one of those boxes on straps like those popcorn vendors at baseball games wear but it was full of icey cold, refreshing sour four loko variety packs. They were non-alcoholic, but did get you lit. Who knows why?

"Oh, you caught me at a bad time. I was filming a commercial. The electricity bill here is tremendous and we've been hemorrhaging money since 27% of the school's student body have been hospitalized or died because of my ineptitude in hiring a competent and cleanly kitchen staff. Hemorrhaging, much like the students do after eating the cafeteria food. And not dissimilar to my hemorrhoids."

The beanie baby was recording, and caught the whole thing on tape.

Harry and Dobby melted into the bedsheets, but fast, like they do in the movies on their backs and theyre all sweaty and said:

"Wow. I mean, wow." giggled Dobby.

Harry's chest hair mingled with Dobby's fingies, and one of his brittle fingernails broke off and lodged into Harry's heart, right under his left nipple.

"That right there? That means that I'm always with you. I want you to know that I'm in this. For real. It's you and me, babe. Forever. Babe. Harry. Harry Potter. Master? Mister Potter? Harry! Harry, wake up! Harry Potter, it is an HONOR."

Harry snored himself awake, and replied, "You know, Dobby, I could free you if I gave you this sock…" Harry pulled the sock off of his wee willie winkie and attached it to a fishing pole and taunted Dobby with it.

"No, Harry Potter, I want to be your little slave. I want you to make me work for it." Dobby was adamantly smacking his forehead with his hand, leaving several nail shards in his forehead.

"Wow, Dobby, that's tender of you." The two melted into a pile on the bed, entwined, and you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. When they got up after 8 hours, they had to peel off of each other, the skin stuck so badly from their sweat and hedwig shit that they had to get surgery to remove themselves from each other. They threw up a lot in the process. Harry didn't want Dobby to see, but Dobby insisted on their puke mingling. It was how his ancestors made love. But not any current house elves. It was disgusting, after all.

The nect day:

"God dangit, Bobby!" said Hank Till. He was an onlooker, some may say a lookie loo or even a peepeeing Thom. What he was looking at? The police raid on Hogwarts. Yes you heard me. The police were all cats so it was okay. I mean, as far as like life goes. But it wasn't ok for hogwarts. Cats are even worse than human police when it comes to caracking down and having greasy poop and messing with wader.

A Cat named Jerome was the chief and he was PISSED. He sprayed everywhere. His own son, Quiver n' Burp, was a student at Hogwarts and had gotten a tummy ache once from the yuck ass food there. Since then, he'd been eating his own shit to stay alive.

"That's rough." said Charlie Brown, one of the hotter third-years.

"Ok we're closing the scholl" said Hagrid. Hagrid was actually the headmaster, not many know. He had been a father figure to Harry and many children into his hut.

So the school closed and everyone had 2 go home for a whole long time. But our heroes didin't want to bc theyre' orphans or too cool for home.

The kids huddled together in a bush to avoid leaving, bc they loved school. Alot. a lot .. lot.

Like, a lot. NOT! Yes. yea they did though.

They found a damn pretty bush, all brown n stuff.

"I have a brown bush." stated She. And indeed, her bush was brown.

And so it came to pass.

Sighting the brown bush about ten yards yon, the spry young, well oiled bodied children who were 18, ate tapas before square dancing and arriving at the manger.

Once they hit the manger, the bush was just another fortnight and follow yoner star. The bush was just a gateway to the bush. They first burnt down the manger to make room for the bush, even though the bush was far away and already existed. You can NEVER be too careful.

The bush was an azalea, and it was Frank from homeroom. Frank was a bush, in case that wasn't clear. Still is. WEll, at least I hope he's still around. He could have died. Jeeze.

"The science is telling us that the bush is in fact Frank, so it's safe to take our masks off." Said Ron, who was completing a Doctorate and writing his thesis on Bulwhark and Shavings.

And so, the group masked off and went into FRank.

They hid inside for a long, deep time and got pruney. They got pruney from bush gas, if that wasn't clear. Some layed eggs. Others weren't so lucky. Eggless.

Months after they had been pickled in the bush, the children emerged. They were a ragtag gang of freedom fighters called the pickle bushes with eggs and gas but some less of the eggs but not gas, everyone had gas. My mom disapproved of that but I do what I want. Bushes give me wind. A sharp one, at that.

Speaking of sharp, back when they were still in the bush, mid-pickle, when only some of them had gas, at one point an eagle had clawed at them a lot and now Ron didn't have eyes anymore. Knowingly, the eagle had rebuilt the manger and used eyes to decorate. He knew baby Jesus was going to be born without eyes, and He had provided some for him. He had also begun the pickling process because baby christ figures and saviours of all kinds need pickles to survive, and He knew what to do. The Eagle set it all in motion. He also set up a Christian Science Readong room, where a woman live-birthed a figurine of Christ, thus beginning the circle anew.

What this really means for our story is that Harry now was at a crossroads of destiny. He could choose the fate that was chosen for him by Him Eagle Senior to become the antichrist and repeat the nevending circle of good vs evil, or eagle, or he could turn the pads storeroom into a nightclub for men in their forties. He went with the latter.

There was also a changing room.

Harry then persuaded the Eagle to join his ragtag team and reno the pads room to be hot as fuck for forty year old men's standards.

(we didn't explain that well. Basically, Hogwartz got police raided and had to close down, but the children were naughty and hid in a bush so they could stay at school, going into a deep hibernation for months and got pickled to the bone. Good for their skin.)

THE END AOF THIS CHAOTER an please check out our instagram and FB and our Christian Science Readin room on Brooklyn and 17th. Oats provided.

"We could get some tiki torches in here." -Josh