Larry Hotter part One
Larry Hotter and the Multi-Million-Dollar Scam
By Ittai and Ashley
The day was a dreary shade of purplish lemon and Larry Hotter had fallen asleep upside down underneath the rug. Drool created a stream from his mouth to the floor boards, which naturally, angered his aunt Chrysanthemum um… he was having an insane dream in which he, as Voldefart was having wild monkey sex with the eminent professor Dumblecrap, whose hand was shriveled into a pathetic, charred shriveled popsicle stick. Suddenly, his scar screamed, emitting a repulsive, permeating screech from his forehead. Waking up immediately, he touched his hand to the scar on his forehead, which was incidentally shaped like Michael Jackson in one of his obscene poses (the one where he’s grabbing his crotch). His owl, Hellwick screeched violently in the corner, begging to be set free from its perilous perch.
“Oi, Hotter!” bellowed Uncle Vespuchi from his lofty bedroom, upstairs, “Shut yer bloody BLOODY!”
Larry suddenly exploded into a fit of teenage angst, and I quote (in all caps), “GOD DAMN YOU, YOU FUGGIN FUGGING FUG!” Larry was livid with fury, his bones gawping to take action against the entirely vicious creature, Vespuchi, who had oppressed him, long enough.
“It’s my birthday,” he cawed, “and I’ll caw if I want to!” Suddenly, Larry let out an uncontrollable bolt of electricity in the general direction of the monstrosity formerly known as Vespuchi. Needless to say, Larry moved in with Donald Pleezly in his ruddy house known as the “bucket.”
“Oi, Hotter!” Larry woke up to the site of Herricaiene, sitting on his bed while bouncing giddily in excitement. Donald had grown four feet since the last time Larry had seen him, but without his perpetually broken glasses, he couldn’t tell for sure.
“Oh, Larry, you’re awake!” Hermione gasped in utter ecstasy. But Larry wasn’t interested in her. No, he saw Genny Pleezly standing there, almost luminescent in the doorway. Suddenly, Donald fell onto the floor, where he proceeded to suck some random girl’s face… he did this for a couple more hours, obviously drowned by hormones. Dear god, JK must be getting hornier and hornier. Suddenly, Harry spotted a deep purple stain on the floor boards but thought nothing of it.
“’ARRY!! I am zeee resident whoir!” belted Phelt Zanzibar, Boob’s new fiancé. Harry rolled his un-spectacled eyes at the apparition in his bedroom. He reached for his glasses but squeezed Poopstain, Donald’s sickly rat, instead. The rat consequentially died, leaking a strange pink liquid from its mouth…. We think this is pepto-bismal but we don’t know for sure.
“Oi! It’s tea time!” belched Mrs. Pleezly from her kitchen lair. Ron dropped his female object with a dull thud and proceeded to creak down the stairs for teatime. In the last five minutes he had grown an astounding thirty five feet and now towered over everyone and everything. Harry, who had successfully found his glasses by this time, overlooked the rat-carcass molding on the nightstand and jumped at the chance to drink tea. Hermoine, on the other hand, had been replaced by Elsa Vonderfock, Swedish supermodel.
“Hermoine, you’re beautiful,” cackled puberty-stricken Don, whose manly animalistic instincts had at that moment sent his sweaty hands to her perfect European boobs, where they remained for the next twenty five minutes. Vonderfuck didn’t notice this. She didn’t notice a lot of things, like the fact that she was no longer in Switzerland or Sweeden or Lithuania or wherever the hell she’s from. Mrs. Pleezly had gained a lot of weight over the summer although she insisted on squeezing into her old whoring uniform.
“Back in my day,” she loved to say with a wink, “Men paid for my love!”
By Ittai and Ashley
The day was a dreary shade of purplish lemon and Larry Hotter had fallen asleep upside down underneath the rug. Drool created a stream from his mouth to the floor boards, which naturally, angered his aunt Chrysanthemum um… he was having an insane dream in which he, as Voldefart was having wild monkey sex with the eminent professor Dumblecrap, whose hand was shriveled into a pathetic, charred shriveled popsicle stick. Suddenly, his scar screamed, emitting a repulsive, permeating screech from his forehead. Waking up immediately, he touched his hand to the scar on his forehead, which was incidentally shaped like Michael Jackson in one of his obscene poses (the one where he’s grabbing his crotch). His owl, Hellwick screeched violently in the corner, begging to be set free from its perilous perch.
“Oi, Hotter!” bellowed Uncle Vespuchi from his lofty bedroom, upstairs, “Shut yer bloody BLOODY!”
Larry suddenly exploded into a fit of teenage angst, and I quote (in all caps), “GOD DAMN YOU, YOU FUGGIN FUGGING FUG!” Larry was livid with fury, his bones gawping to take action against the entirely vicious creature, Vespuchi, who had oppressed him, long enough.
“It’s my birthday,” he cawed, “and I’ll caw if I want to!” Suddenly, Larry let out an uncontrollable bolt of electricity in the general direction of the monstrosity formerly known as Vespuchi. Needless to say, Larry moved in with Donald Pleezly in his ruddy house known as the “bucket.”
“Oi, Hotter!” Larry woke up to the site of Herricaiene, sitting on his bed while bouncing giddily in excitement. Donald had grown four feet since the last time Larry had seen him, but without his perpetually broken glasses, he couldn’t tell for sure.
“Oh, Larry, you’re awake!” Hermione gasped in utter ecstasy. But Larry wasn’t interested in her. No, he saw Genny Pleezly standing there, almost luminescent in the doorway. Suddenly, Donald fell onto the floor, where he proceeded to suck some random girl’s face… he did this for a couple more hours, obviously drowned by hormones. Dear god, JK must be getting hornier and hornier. Suddenly, Harry spotted a deep purple stain on the floor boards but thought nothing of it.
“’ARRY!! I am zeee resident whoir!” belted Phelt Zanzibar, Boob’s new fiancé. Harry rolled his un-spectacled eyes at the apparition in his bedroom. He reached for his glasses but squeezed Poopstain, Donald’s sickly rat, instead. The rat consequentially died, leaking a strange pink liquid from its mouth…. We think this is pepto-bismal but we don’t know for sure.
“Oi! It’s tea time!” belched Mrs. Pleezly from her kitchen lair. Ron dropped his female object with a dull thud and proceeded to creak down the stairs for teatime. In the last five minutes he had grown an astounding thirty five feet and now towered over everyone and everything. Harry, who had successfully found his glasses by this time, overlooked the rat-carcass molding on the nightstand and jumped at the chance to drink tea. Hermoine, on the other hand, had been replaced by Elsa Vonderfock, Swedish supermodel.
“Hermoine, you’re beautiful,” cackled puberty-stricken Don, whose manly animalistic instincts had at that moment sent his sweaty hands to her perfect European boobs, where they remained for the next twenty five minutes. Vonderfuck didn’t notice this. She didn’t notice a lot of things, like the fact that she was no longer in Switzerland or Sweeden or Lithuania or wherever the hell she’s from. Mrs. Pleezly had gained a lot of weight over the summer although she insisted on squeezing into her old whoring uniform.
“Back in my day,” she loved to say with a wink, “Men paid for my love!”