(no subject)
In an attempt to mollify my overwhelmingly obsessive fanbase, I will be writing an entry detailing the various occurences in my fascinating life. If this doesn't appease you, nothing will. I do like to be charitable, especially to those who prize Myself above all else. Goyle's mattress is literally coated in my fan-mail at the moment. Of course, I won't be responding to any of it, so I let him have it while he waits for the incompetent house elves to deliver him new sheets. The bulbous whale spilled pumpkin juice on his actual bedding, like the moron that he is. Obviously no one can do anything correctly, save for a Malfoy.
Take Potter for instance. Myself and the rest of the considerably apt Slytherin Quidditch Team happened to be passing by the Gryffindor team while they were practising, if that's what one can call it. In the midst of Potter's numerous laments cataloguing his lack of skill as both a Quidditch Captain and a human being, the attempts made by the Weaslette, Potter's mudblood girlfriend, and Finnigan to even properly pass the Quaffle to one another were laughable. Naturally, My team couldn't help but to show mirth at something so hilariously heinous. For the remainder of Gryffindor's practise, we did our best to show them how very piteous they were. After all, it would be cruel not to. Gryffindor is obviously going to lose the match on the twentieth. Imagine losing to Hufflepuff. I certainly couldn't. Ha, ha, ha.
Periwinkle is doing an acceptable job with Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose. They aren't becoming as easily winded when I ask them to deliver to me miscellaneous objects, such as my trunk, so I would have to say that they are improving. However, being the failure that she is, I wouldn't be shocked if Sienna's work suddenly backfired and each bloated to the size of Gringotts once more.
I have often heard that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Obviously those running Hogwarts' kitchens don't consider this to be the truth, for I am tortured daily with inedible compounds labeled as food and drink. This is unacceptable. I am considering going on a hunger strike until the quality of food is improved, but that would be stressful and ineffectual. Instead, I am going to head straight down to the kitchens succeeding this entry, and will proceed to shout the elves into a veritable flurry. It will cause my throat to be slightly sore following the event, but I am doing it for the common good of the people. I'm willing to suffer for a cause, as long as it will benefit me in both the short and long run. Pansy, I demand that you accompany me.
Parvati saw it.
My life is unbearably stressful. Tomorrow will be less than pleasant. I cannot believe what I am being forced to do. This is the work of underlings, not Malfoys.
Take Potter for instance. Myself and the rest of the considerably apt Slytherin Quidditch Team happened to be passing by the Gryffindor team while they were practising, if that's what one can call it. In the midst of Potter's numerous laments cataloguing his lack of skill as both a Quidditch Captain and a human being, the attempts made by the Weaslette, Potter's mudblood girlfriend, and Finnigan to even properly pass the Quaffle to one another were laughable. Naturally, My team couldn't help but to show mirth at something so hilariously heinous. For the remainder of Gryffindor's practise, we did our best to show them how very piteous they were. After all, it would be cruel not to. Gryffindor is obviously going to lose the match on the twentieth. Imagine losing to Hufflepuff. I certainly couldn't. Ha, ha, ha.
Periwinkle is doing an acceptable job with Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose. They aren't becoming as easily winded when I ask them to deliver to me miscellaneous objects, such as my trunk, so I would have to say that they are improving. However, being the failure that she is, I wouldn't be shocked if Sienna's work suddenly backfired and each bloated to the size of Gringotts once more.
I have often heard that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Obviously those running Hogwarts' kitchens don't consider this to be the truth, for I am tortured daily with inedible compounds labeled as food and drink. This is unacceptable. I am considering going on a hunger strike until the quality of food is improved, but that would be stressful and ineffectual. Instead, I am going to head straight down to the kitchens succeeding this entry, and will proceed to shout the elves into a veritable flurry. It will cause my throat to be slightly sore following the event, but I am doing it for the common good of the people. I'm willing to suffer for a cause, as long as it will benefit me in both the short and long run. Pansy, I demand that you accompany me.
Parvati saw it.
My life is unbearably stressful. Tomorrow will be less than pleasant. I cannot believe what I am being forced to do. This is the work of underlings, not Malfoys.