001. 01 August, 2022. Saturday.

[spareboot]

The colossal hoax of clocks and calendars, it seems, cannot be defeated by plumes of pink smoke signalling the close of summer. The latter having been aided by the unique stench smell of rotting tropical fruits, however -- well, it's an advantage that can't be denied.

Should anyone have an extra copy of The Daily Prophet, I'd be grateful if one

Comments

[competitivewin]

How much is it worth to ya?

[spareboot]

Whatever you're thinking, you know the answer is "no".

[competitivewin]

I'm the one who says no, Boot. 'No I will not make out with you.' 'No I will not dump Potter for you.'

But yes, as someone who acknowledges your incredible devotion to me, I'll send you a prophet. The Quidditch bits stay here, but you can have the rest. It's not like my Dad reads the other shit.

[spareboot]

.... Yes, Winifred. My unspoken desires just leap from the page, don't they. The sexual tension might be limper than this head of lettuce that is the only thing to eat in this entire fucking flat soggy parchment, but nonetheless it's completely transformed me.

Irving's sending me a copy, actually, but thanks for the offer all the same.

[competitivewin]

What was that? You want to rub soggy parchment all over me? Dirty. I like it.

Brill, it'll save my owl the trip. I think we ought to get as many of the team over to my place for practice this summer. Are you going to be busy or can I count on you to make it?

[spareboot]

I feel as though I've long since exhausted my repertoire of faux-clever remarks involving Bludgers at maximum velocity and impact with your head & the subsequent damage thereof; therefore I'll keep it short: No.

I'm in Venezuela, transportation might be slightly Busy clearing durian-scented pink clouds from the room? Sadly, it seems I will, but too busy for practice, no. When? Need to stay on the team &c.

[competitivewin]

Stop stealing my word.

What the fuck is a durian?

Brill. Not sure yet. Just know that it'll be often.

[spareboot]

Potter must not be pleased if you use that one too often.

A durian is a sort of fruit -- looks like an overlarge hedgehog, smells rather like Hookum's perfume what the journals are prone to produce.

Yes, I should have expected that.

[competitivewin]

We have our own special words.

Fruits don't look like animals. I don't believe you. What the fuck are you talking about?

Good.

[spareboot]

Keep 'em that way, please and thanks.

This one can break all the rules it pleases; if you'd ever seen one, you'd know.

[competitivewin]

I know. You love a mystery, don't you? Do you have your special rune decoder ring on?

Repeated: I don't believe you.

[spareboot]

It's right at the bottom of this box of animal-shaped biscuits.

Why would I lie?

[competitivewin]

Like your imaginary porcupine fruit?

To protect yourself.

[spareboot]

My reputation does rest on maintaining the fiction of foul-smelling foodstuffs; how could I forget?

Actually, just for that, I will send you one.