He stopped moving long enough to give that last question the consideration it deserved, which was about two seconds.
"Naw, I'd say it kinda sucks for humanity."
Then he was off. "But man, you wanna know what defines me? My batting average. I got a freakin' sweet record. Look at this. Just look at this!" He stepped away from Nny to swing his bat a few times. "It doesn't get any better than that."
"Yeah, blue. What about it? You got blue cheese? I'll eat blue cheese. I'll cram it down my throat. You don't believe me?" While there was nothing of a challenge in Matt's question, Scout was going to find one.
"You go do that." Wait, huh? House elf what? He looked at Matt as if he was crazy. "Actually, you know what? Never mind. You can keep your cheese and your little elves."
Scout oh-so-NOT-discreetly took a huge step away from Matt, in case believing in elves was contagious.
Matthew looked amused. "You know, I think maybe you take yourself a bit too seriously."
It was very hard to tell that Matthew did not have a Cockney accent. Probably only someone very familiar with such accents would notice that a lower-class Ostian accent was slightly different.
"Oh, absolutely I take myself seriously, bub," he said, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. He talked enough for two people, and Matthew would have to be speaking Martian to get Scout to stop listening to the sound of his own voice, much less somebody else's.
"You wanna know why? Cause somebody has to. How would people know how great I am if I don't tell 'em? People deserve to know who they're messin' with. It's either this or wear a sign that says, 'Warning, I'm gonna beat your head in, dummy.' And that would just look stupid."
He laughed, more of an annoying bray than a laugh. "Not like they're gonna outrun me. I'm the fastest thing on two legs. They see me comin', then BAM! lights out. Party's over."
"A talkin' dag! It's a talkin' dog!" Hogwarts was full of wonders that apparently had to be announced at full volume. "A freaking talkin' dog, and it's talking to me!"
He bent down and tried to pet Wishbone. "Aw man. This is so cool. Talkin' dogs. What do dogs talk about all day? How other dogs' butts smell?"
"Man, who wants to talk about that? Books are bo-ring. Hey, do you like to play fetch?"
He shrugged off the knapsack he'd been carrying and rummaged through it. "I know it's in here somewhere."
Shortly he pulled out a beaten up baseball. "You want it?" He might need it back should some moron deserve a line drive to the skull, but dog spit would only enhance the effect.
"Yeah, babe, you'd better believe it." Scout swung his bat back in forth in what he hoped was a suitably manly manor. "You just watch. I'll knock the sense into any dumba-- er, moron-- uh, person around." Hot chicks were supposed to be prim, right? Best to cut back on the swearing.
"So what'sa girl like you doin' in a funky place that kidnaps people?"
"Maybe I'm the one doing the kidnapping. You never can tell." Primavera smirked. "No, really, but I'll be interested to see you take a swing at the Sorting Hat."
He would, too. The Force-a-Nature was still tucked away, but he'd even take a few potshots at the Hat if she asked.
"That hat ain't gonna know what hit it. I'm like the wind. The hat will just be sittin' there, doin' what hats do, and then there I am, and that hat ain't got no chance." It did occur to him that a hat couldn't exactly run away. "You want me to take a swing at the person wearin' it?"
Comments 105
"Filling Heaven and Hell? Reeeaaaally?"
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"You better believe it. Centipedes don't have enough fingers and toes to keep count of all the dead people."
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What was with people lately?
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"Naw, I'd say it kinda sucks for humanity."
Then he was off. "But man, you wanna know what defines me? My batting average. I got a freakin' sweet record. Look at this. Just look at this!" He stepped away from Nny to swing his bat a few times. "It doesn't get any better than that."
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"So. Blue?"
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"No, I don't have any bleu cheese. I could ask a house elf for some though."
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Scout oh-so-NOT-discreetly took a huge step away from Matt, in case believing in elves was contagious.
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It was very hard to tell that Matthew did not have a Cockney accent. Probably only someone very familiar with such accents would notice that a lower-class Ostian accent was slightly different.
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"You wanna know why? Cause somebody has to. How would people know how great I am if I don't tell 'em? People deserve to know who they're messin' with. It's either this or wear a sign that says, 'Warning, I'm gonna beat your head in, dummy.' And that would just look stupid."
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He bent down and tried to pet Wishbone. "Aw man. This is so cool. Talkin' dogs. What do dogs talk about all day? How other dogs' butts smell?"
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How embarassing to hear that question.
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He shrugged off the knapsack he'd been carrying and rummaged through it. "I know it's in here somewhere."
Shortly he pulled out a beaten up baseball. "You want it?" He might need it back should some moron deserve a line drive to the skull, but dog spit would only enhance the effect.
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Primavera blew a big pink bubble of chewing gum, and popped it loudly.
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"So what'sa girl like you doin' in a funky place that kidnaps people?"
((Re-posted for stupid.))
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"That hat ain't gonna know what hit it. I'm like the wind. The hat will just be sittin' there, doin' what hats do, and then there I am, and that hat ain't got no chance." It did occur to him that a hat couldn't exactly run away. "You want me to take a swing at the person wearin' it?"
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