[it's all third]
What an awful day.
Wasn't today supposed to be Friday? A day of great anticipation for the oh so close weekend? Alas. One obnoxious Slytherin in Matthew Sanders' year had to make all this go to shame.
As far back as he could remember, he was Matty Sanders. Everyone called him that. Even his girlfriend called him Matty. It was what he was known by, other than Mister Sanders in the classroom. Sanders, Matty. What was the big deal, you might ask? Well, that question might be better directed to fourth year Charles Lincoln himself. In the words of the delicate Slytherin, "Hey, Maaaa-teeee. Are you four, or fourteen?"
It was only fair for the rest of his house to carry on along.
Other remarks were as follows:
"Does wittle Matty need some supplies?" [Potions]
"Mummy still change your diapers, Matty Watty?" [DADA]
And a personal favorite- "Waaaaaah Waaaaah Matty! May I spoon feed you?" [Great Hall]
The last, and creepiest, was what threw the boy over the edge. What didn't help? His loving sister's perfectly timed greeting to the fourth year who entered the common room promptly after his spoon had begun jamming itself at his mouth.
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTY! MUMMY WROTE US TODAY!" Sara had cheered gleefully.
The teen sneered. Mummy?
"Whatever."
"C'mon Maaaaaatty!" she urged, handing him the letter. "It's good! Mum's got some news!"
"Shut up."
"Matty?" she asked, looking at him incrediously, "Matty what's wrong?"
"It's Matt now," he spat, the last three words Sara ever expected to hear out of the boy's mouth.
Wasn't today supposed to be Friday? A day of great anticipation for the oh so close weekend? Alas. One obnoxious Slytherin in Matthew Sanders' year had to make all this go to shame.
As far back as he could remember, he was Matty Sanders. Everyone called him that. Even his girlfriend called him Matty. It was what he was known by, other than Mister Sanders in the classroom. Sanders, Matty. What was the big deal, you might ask? Well, that question might be better directed to fourth year Charles Lincoln himself. In the words of the delicate Slytherin, "Hey, Maaaa-teeee. Are you four, or fourteen?"
It was only fair for the rest of his house to carry on along.
Other remarks were as follows:
"Does wittle Matty need some supplies?" [Potions]
"Mummy still change your diapers, Matty Watty?" [DADA]
And a personal favorite- "Waaaaaah Waaaaah Matty! May I spoon feed you?" [Great Hall]
The last, and creepiest, was what threw the boy over the edge. What didn't help? His loving sister's perfectly timed greeting to the fourth year who entered the common room promptly after his spoon had begun jamming itself at his mouth.
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTY! MUMMY WROTE US TODAY!" Sara had cheered gleefully.
The teen sneered. Mummy?
"Whatever."
"C'mon Maaaaaatty!" she urged, handing him the letter. "It's good! Mum's got some news!"
"Shut up."
"Matty?" she asked, looking at him incrediously, "Matty what's wrong?"
"It's Matt now," he spat, the last three words Sara ever expected to hear out of the boy's mouth.