Harry Potter and the Stoned Sorcerer
Apr 20, 2016 16:28:15 GMT
Gilian Zorybo and [Meme Friend] TheOddISee like this
Post by Sharkalien on Apr 20, 2016 16:28:15 GMT
Something I wrote a long time ago for my Accelerated Reading class. It was a satire writing assignment, which I received an A on, thank you very much.
“Get up and cook the damn breakfast!” screeched Harry’s Aunt Petunia as she rapped on his door.
“Alright, alright,you horse-faced b*tch…” grumbled Harry.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“I said good morning. You horse-faced b!tch,” mumbled Harry.
“Quit your grumbling and mumbling,boy,” said his Uncle Vernon while he slapped him on the back of his head. “Now bring my coffee,boy.”
“Bring my coffee,boy,” said Harry in a mocking tone. He spat in it and gave it to his uncle. When Harry got back to the stove, his dimwitted, lard-ass of a cousin literally fell down the stairs, got up and walked into the kitchen.
“What’s for lunch?” he asked in a guttural voice.
“It’s morning, tubby-wubby,” said Aunt Petunia.
“So?”
“Harry, make some lunch for Dudley.”
“And I’ll shove it up his fat-” he began when the mail came.
“Go get the mail first, boy,” Uncle Vernon said. As Harry went to go get the mail, he noticed the calendar. It was July 29th, two days before his birthday.
“Hmm. Won’t be as good as last year, though,” he thought to himself as he picked up the letters. Last year, Dudley got the vacuum cleaner stuck on his…well, let’s say penis. Harry went through the mail, mostly bills.
“I hope Uncle Vernon doesn’t go on another musical rant called ‘Drills and Bills’ again,” thought Harry when suddenly he found a letter for him. He never received a letter before. It was quite exciting. Almost as exciting when one of the girls at school went skinny-dipping in the school pool. Harry went into the kitchen and put the letters except for his on the table.
“What took you so long, boy?” asked Uncle Vernon. “Searching for letter bombs? Hurr hurr hurr hurr…Oh,nothing but bills!All week, every week! Nothing but drills and bills!”
Harry started to open his letter when Dudley snatched it out of his hands.
“Hey, give it back, fat-ass! It’s mine!” Harry tried to snatch it back but fat as he may be, Dudley was quick on his feet.
“Dad, dad! Harry’s got a letter!”
“He did, did he?” Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter, chuckling.
“Hurr hurr hurr hurr…”
He stopped chuckling as he read it. He looked at Aunt Petunia, who was reading the letter from over his shoulder. They both looked worried. Or angry, Harry could never tell the difference.
Uncle Vernon got up and threw the letter in the fireplace.
“Hey, you jiggly-juggly piece of sh#t! What are you doing!?” yelled Harry.
“Don’t call me fat, boy!”
“Then maybe you and your son shouldn’t eat so damn much!”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my boy, boy!”
After a couple of hours and several boy!’s later, Uncle Vernon threw Harry in his cupboard and said he wouldn’t eat for three weeks. Harry had gone without food for longer. Uncle Vernon did go on another musical rant, but this one was called “I Love Food, But That Boy Is Rude!”
The next morning, two more letters came for Harry and Uncle Vernon started to freak out. He tore out half his mustache and it started to bleed and he grabbed his gun and forced everyone to get “in the bleeping car!”
Several hours later, they were in a small shack on a rock in the middle of the ocean. Dudley got to sleep on the moldy yet comfortable sofa, Vernon and Petunia got the bed upstairs, and Harry got the floor. Later that night, Harry was still awake, waiting for his eleventh birthday. It’s 11:58 P.M., he hears some noises. Two minutes later, he wishes a happy birthday to himself. Suddenly, the door is knocked down! A huge man walks in.
“Whoa, did I do that? Whoops,” he said. He bends over and picks it up, and farts in the process. He walks over to the sofa and sits down. On top of Dudley, who is still asleep.
“Who are you, whimsical Brobdingnagian?” asked Harry.
“Name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” He burped and spat on the floor. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
He reached into his jacket and took out what looked like a frosted pancake.
“It’s your birthday cake, though I mighta sat on it at some point.”
“I don’t mind,” said Harry, mouth full.“What’s Hogwarts?”
“Don’ you know abou’ Hogwarts?”
“Nope.”
Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room with his AK-47.
TO BE CONLUDED
“Get up and cook the damn breakfast!” screeched Harry’s Aunt Petunia as she rapped on his door.
“Alright, alright,you horse-faced b*tch…” grumbled Harry.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
“I said good morning. You horse-faced b!tch,” mumbled Harry.
“Quit your grumbling and mumbling,boy,” said his Uncle Vernon while he slapped him on the back of his head. “Now bring my coffee,boy.”
“Bring my coffee,boy,” said Harry in a mocking tone. He spat in it and gave it to his uncle. When Harry got back to the stove, his dimwitted, lard-ass of a cousin literally fell down the stairs, got up and walked into the kitchen.
“What’s for lunch?” he asked in a guttural voice.
“It’s morning, tubby-wubby,” said Aunt Petunia.
“So?”
“Harry, make some lunch for Dudley.”
“And I’ll shove it up his fat-” he began when the mail came.
“Go get the mail first, boy,” Uncle Vernon said. As Harry went to go get the mail, he noticed the calendar. It was July 29th, two days before his birthday.
“Hmm. Won’t be as good as last year, though,” he thought to himself as he picked up the letters. Last year, Dudley got the vacuum cleaner stuck on his…well, let’s say penis. Harry went through the mail, mostly bills.
“I hope Uncle Vernon doesn’t go on another musical rant called ‘Drills and Bills’ again,” thought Harry when suddenly he found a letter for him. He never received a letter before. It was quite exciting. Almost as exciting when one of the girls at school went skinny-dipping in the school pool. Harry went into the kitchen and put the letters except for his on the table.
“What took you so long, boy?” asked Uncle Vernon. “Searching for letter bombs? Hurr hurr hurr hurr…Oh,nothing but bills!All week, every week! Nothing but drills and bills!”
Harry started to open his letter when Dudley snatched it out of his hands.
“Hey, give it back, fat-ass! It’s mine!” Harry tried to snatch it back but fat as he may be, Dudley was quick on his feet.
“Dad, dad! Harry’s got a letter!”
“He did, did he?” Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter, chuckling.
“Hurr hurr hurr hurr…”
He stopped chuckling as he read it. He looked at Aunt Petunia, who was reading the letter from over his shoulder. They both looked worried. Or angry, Harry could never tell the difference.
Uncle Vernon got up and threw the letter in the fireplace.
“Hey, you jiggly-juggly piece of sh#t! What are you doing!?” yelled Harry.
“Don’t call me fat, boy!”
“Then maybe you and your son shouldn’t eat so damn much!”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my boy, boy!”
After a couple of hours and several boy!’s later, Uncle Vernon threw Harry in his cupboard and said he wouldn’t eat for three weeks. Harry had gone without food for longer. Uncle Vernon did go on another musical rant, but this one was called “I Love Food, But That Boy Is Rude!”
The next morning, two more letters came for Harry and Uncle Vernon started to freak out. He tore out half his mustache and it started to bleed and he grabbed his gun and forced everyone to get “in the bleeping car!”
Several hours later, they were in a small shack on a rock in the middle of the ocean. Dudley got to sleep on the moldy yet comfortable sofa, Vernon and Petunia got the bed upstairs, and Harry got the floor. Later that night, Harry was still awake, waiting for his eleventh birthday. It’s 11:58 P.M., he hears some noises. Two minutes later, he wishes a happy birthday to himself. Suddenly, the door is knocked down! A huge man walks in.
“Whoa, did I do that? Whoops,” he said. He bends over and picks it up, and farts in the process. He walks over to the sofa and sits down. On top of Dudley, who is still asleep.
“Who are you, whimsical Brobdingnagian?” asked Harry.
“Name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” He burped and spat on the floor. “Happy birthday, Harry.”
He reached into his jacket and took out what looked like a frosted pancake.
“It’s your birthday cake, though I mighta sat on it at some point.”
“I don’t mind,” said Harry, mouth full.“What’s Hogwarts?”
“Don’ you know abou’ Hogwarts?”
“Nope.”
Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room with his AK-47.
TO BE CONLUDED
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