Well, I must say that this whole business with the Yule Ball is quite ridiculous. We shouldn't have to make romantic overtures to our peers in order to pass a class. Hmph. I suppose I must get a date, because I am certainly not failing a class for such a silly reason. Er. I think
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You could always use a revolver, I suppose, but those can be so dangerous, especially if you check to see if they're in working order by squeezing the trigger when squinting down the barrel.
One of Father's long dead cousins did that. It took weeks to clean the drapes, apparently.
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Which reminds me, would you, uhm, want to go to the Yule Ball with me?
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Only if you promise that you will dance with me. I like dancing.
And no leather.
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Actually, I probably do not want to know. And yes, I'll wear no leather whatsoever.
I suppose dancing will be fine. After all, I have been taught by the best. Even if the best is largely into disco. Not that there's anything wrong with disco, but it's just really ..sparkly.
Uhm, right. I'll see you then, right?
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I think they suit him, personally.
I like sparkly! What colour sparkly were you thinking of?
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Red? But I'm still not wearing sparkly disco things. They reduce my masculinity and make me feel like a decorated, white pony.
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I think we shall have a great time even if I do not look like a pony.
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The Quibbler had a feature on it last month. Most girls seemed to want unicorns, though.
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However, The Quibbler - highly educational reading. Especially last October's issue, where there was a story about a witch who had charmed a pair of knickers to dance and since in Urdu every time she clapped her hands. Why they don't teach that at school, I'll never figure out.
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There's still that horsy appeal, but he's also a man. And somewhat wild, too.
Perfect.
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