Chapter 9 Greetings, America!
“Near…far…wherever you are…”
“Stan! STAN!” Greg’s sleepy head poked its way out of his blankets. “Could you turn off that Celine Dion CD, PLEASE?”
“CD? Wha’choo talkin’ about, CD? That was me singing.”
“Top of the morning, all!” Draco yawned and kicked his covers off.
“Will you shut up, boy?” Ernie barked from the front. “I’m ASLEEP, for Pete’s sake!”
“Boy, someone’s in a cranky mood,” Draco said. “Hey, Vince, wake up!”
A corner (it was hard to tell which)of Vince’s face surfaced from the layers of blankets on his bed. “Why?”
“Because it’s…” Draco checked his watch. “11:31 in the morning.”
“You woke me up THIS early?” Vince grumbled. He sank down into his covers once again.
“Hey, blondie, you’re blocking my soap,” Madam Marsh called from the back.
“Blondie…” a wizard with newts in a cage chuckled. “That’s a good one, Marsh. Blondie. Heh. Blondie.”
“Let’s tell Blonde jokes,” Greg suggested. “Here’s a really good one: she’s so blonde she starved to death in…”
“KROGER!” the whole bus roared. “HAHAHAHAHA!”
Greg turned to Vince’s bed smugly. “Now THESE people appreciate good humour.”
”Once…more…you opened the door…and you’re here…”
A roar came from Ernie’s direction and blew everyone’s hair on ends.
“That was Lionese for ‘shut up’,” Stan explained in a weak voice from under a bed.
“Are we almost there yet, Ernie?” Greg asked, eating a banana (as usual).
“I reckon so.” Ernie turned the steering wheel so violently that they crashed headfirst into a streetside theater.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Romeo was saying to Juliet. “Thou are more lovely and more temporate.”
The bus hit him hard.
“Rough winds do shake…OH MY GOSH I’VE JUST BEEN HIT BY AN INVISIBLE BUS!” the actor smacked into the glass right before Ernie’s face. “Ooomph!” his face was smushed. (A/N: This was what inspired the scene of Harry smacking into glass in PoA.)
“AHHHHHHHHH!” Ernie screamed at the sight of a smushed face on the other side of the glass. He crashed into the set this time. Bags of flour used to make snow (don’t know why they have that) fell onto the bus and made it white. Now everyone could see it.
The hood of the bus began to cave in from the masses of flour. Then it formed a crack, and another, and another, and another. “OOOOMMMPPHHH!” flour rained into the bus. Everyone was covered in flour.
“Hey! We’re covered in flour!” Stan yelled. “Guess what we’re going to do now?”
“We’re going to wash off and cart you and Ernie over to the asylum?” Draco took a wild guess.
“No! We’re going to have a celebration!” Stan cried. “OOOMPA!”
He dumped a whole pound of flour onto Draco.
“OOOOOMMMPA!” Draco poured a bowl of flour onto Greg.
“OOOOOOOOMMMMPPPAAAA!” Greg dumped flour onto Vince, and soon everyone was dumping flour on each other and crying “OOOOMMMPPPAAA!”
Meanwhile, the Muggle audience just stared at an invisible/white flour-covered bus that had just crashed into the theater, hit Romeo, now caved in by masses of flour and morons in it, throwing flour at each other and yelling “OOOOMMMPAAA” at each other.
“All hail the Greeks!”
“OOOOOMMMPA!”
***
“Tom,” Sheldon came into the dining room, where Voldemort and all the Death Eaters were eating a great big luxurious dinner. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yeah? What’s it about?” Voldemort mumbled through a mouthful of turkey.
“Bobby.”
“Bobby?!” Voldemort fled from his chair and gripped Sheldon’s collar. “My bear? What about him?”
“Well…he…”
“No!” Voldemort cried. “You DIDN’T give him away to charity!”
“Oh, no, it’s much worse,” Sheldon said.
“What? Oh, Sheldon, tell me!”
“Well…”
Sheldon gingerly reached behind his back and pulled out a tangled ball of stained cotton.
“He messed up my knitting?” Voldemort guessed blankly.
“No, Tommy, he didn’t,” Sheldon’s voice broke. “He…I…I didn’t know he had to be dry-cleaned…and since he was so dirty…I put him in the washing machine…I thought that he’d be all right in there…”
“He messed up my washing machine?”
“No. Tommy, I’m so sorry…the washing machine destroyed Bobby.”
Everyone in Australia, South Korea and Oregon swore that they heard a great noise that day sounding somewhat like this:
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And another one like this:
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
In no particular order.
“Tom…” Sheldon patted Voldemort’s back sadly. “I know. He was a gift to the world. He was a wonderful bear and the world’s greatest whoopee cushion.”
Voldemort smiled through his tears. “Boy, those were some memories, huh?”
[flashback]
Voldemort sat down on Bobby. Bobby made a farting noise.
[another flashback]
Voldemort sat down on Bobby. Bobby made a farting noise.
[flashback #3]
Voldemort sat down on Bobby. Bobby made a farting noise.
[flashback #4]
Voldemort sat down on Bobby. Bobby made a farting noise.
[flashes back to present]
“Wait,” Bellatrix interrupted. She rose and came to stand beside Voldemort and Sheldon. “I have an idea. I’m a master at sewing…”
“Liar,” Rodulphus Lestrange coughed from the table.
Bellatrix ignored him. “Perhaps if I had a picture, I could sew Bobby back to life again.”
“You WILL?” Voldemort cried. “Oh, Bella, this is so wonderful! But…I’m afraid we can’t.”
“Why not?” Lucius asked.
“Because we need to mourn for Bobby first. There is a forty-day lamenting period for dead teddy bears. Don’t you watch the Discovery channel?”
“You mean we’re having an Egyptian ceremony and we’ll mummify him?” Lucius asked.
“’Zactly,” Voldemort said. “He will have a funeral as grand as a king’s.”
“I wish Bobby was here to see this,” Lucius said.
***
“Well, here you are, boys,” Ernie said. Stan helped load the luggage off the bus, and Draco, Vince and Greg descended. “Good luck!”
“Remember,” Draco muttered to Vince and Greg. “We can’t tell anyone we’re wizards. They’re all muggles here.”
“Hello,” said a man beside Vince.
“WE CAN DO MAGIC!” Vince screeched.
Draco laughed nervously. “Tricks!” he ended the sentence for Vince. “That’s right, we’re magicians on the go. Nice to meet you sir, good day, and have a nice life.”
“You almost gave us away!” Greg hissed to Vince.
“Sorry,” Vince whispered. “This is a big place.”
He was right. They were standing in the middle of a big, busy airport. People were going every which way around them. “Where are we going again?” Vince asked.
“We’re supposed to meet a Mr. Turner here,” Draco said.
“Ooh, look!” Greg pointed in a direction. There was a big banner that said MALFOY CRABBE AND GOYLE OVER HERE.
“Thanks for distracting us, Gregory,” Vince said angrily. “Now help us look for Mr. Turner.”
“No, you ding-dong, that IS Mr. Turner!” the three of them dragged their luggage over to the banner. Three men and a woman were waiting there. “Hi!” the woman said first. She was short and slender, with a headful of dark curls. “You must be Draco, Gregory and Vincent. I’m the secretary, Vicky Bartley.”
“I’m allergic to deodorant,” Vince blurted out.
“Pardon him,” Draco said, smiling fakely. “The heat’s got him.”
“I’m Mr. Turner,” a dark-haired man in a grey suit greeted them. “I’m the school principal.”
“And I’m the assistant principal Mr. Wojtzceicv,” said a redhaired man.
“And I’m the Sophomore counselor Mr. Booby,” said a blonde man. “You can call me Mr. Booby.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Draco said.
“Oh, listen to that GORGEOUS British accent,” Vicky said. “Well, we’d better go. We’re taking you to meet the family you’ll be staying with.”
“Oh boy, I can’t wait,” Draco muttered.
***
The house they were staying at turned out to be a two-story small brick house with a small front yard and no backyard. The father of the household was a tall, muscular bald guy named Carl McHoho, and his wife Mrs. Ellie McHoho, who had the same physical features as her husband (except for the bald part). The McHohos had buck teeth, straw hats, smoked occasional tobacco, patched suspenders, and bare feet. They also had a strong southern accent.
“Howdy, y’all! We’re the McHohos!” Carl drawled, his pipe sliding out of his mouth. Ellie pushed it back in. “Would y’all like to see your rooms?” (he pronounced ‘like’ like ‘lack’ and ‘rooms’ like ‘row-ums’.)
“Naw, not rat this minute, Carl,” Ellie said. “They’d lack to meet the chil’un first.”
“I rat forgawt,” Carl slapped a hand to his bald shiny forehead. “Nerd! Lizbeth! Heathcliff!”
Three children popped up behind him like poptarts from a toaster. The tallest one was a nerd. “A’m Nerdy Ned,” he introduced himself. “Ma fav’rite subjects are hist’ry, chemistry, an’ ba-ology, with a bit o’ geometry on the sad.”
“Nice to meet you, Nerd,” Greg said.
“OOOMPH!” Nerd was shoved off to one side quite like the Romeo actor being smushed against the bus window. Lizbeth was next. She was plump and freckly. “Howdy, A’m Lizbeth. A’m ‘llergic to school.”
“Which is wha we have her homeschooled,” Ellie added. “Ba me.” (Just pronounce the words like they are spelled and you’ll see!)
The last kid, presumably Heathcliff, shot up. He was a chubby bulldog.
“That’s your kid?” Greg was taken back.
“He looks just like Ellie,” Vince said.
“No, that’s our dawg, but he eats at the table with us.” Ellie explained. “We have another kid, but he ain’t important. Or is it a she?”
“It’s definitely a he,” Lizbeth said. “See, his name’s Howie.”
“I’m afraid you’re quite incorrect, Elizabeth,” Nerd said. “Every intelligent human being should know that Howie is, in fact, a common name for females.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it short for?”
“Howard.”
“Oh, quit arguin’, kids!” Ellie threw her hands up in the air and smacked Carl’s face with her right hand. He went “ooomph” and fell down on the floor.
“Heimlich maneuver!” Nerd cried. All four of them, including Heathcliff, fell onto him and began beating at his chest violently.
“Um, pardon me, but isn’t the Heimlich maneuver for choking?” Greg asked.
All five of them (including Carl) looked at him as though he was crazy.
“Never mind, carry on,” Greg muttered.
“I am revaved!” Carl popped up from the floor. “Now, Lizbeth, hon, bring in Howie!”
“Where is he?” Lizbeth asked.
“Last time I saw him, he was mauling a ladybug,” Ellie said.
Just then Draco felt something sharp bite into his ankle. “OOOWWWW!” he yelled and looked down at his ankles. A baby had just crawled out from under the table and attached its teeth to his ankles.
“Oh, the little critter loves you!” Carl exclaimed. “Isn’t he a darling little gentleman?”
“I thought we agreed that he was a girl,” Nerd said.
“Pray tell, what am I supposed to do to loosen his lovely and affectionate and yet extremely painful grip on my ankle?” Draco fake-smiled again.
“Oh, well, Heath here usually takes care of that,” Carl said.
Heath came forward and sank his teeth (FANGS?!) into Draco’s other leg.
“There,” Ellie said, smiling. “That pain will distract you from the pain that Howie’s giving you.”
“That is IT!” Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it at Heathcliff, then Howie. “Petrificus Totalus!”
The bulldog and the baby both turned to stone.
Draco looked up at the shocked family. “Obliviate!” was the next thing that came into his mind.
A dreamy smile took over the family members’ faces. “Boy, do I feel hungry,” Carl said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m so hungry that I’ve failed to notice the fact that my bulldog and my third child are stone statues attached to the gawky blonde’s legs.”
“Did he say gawky?” Vince whispered to Greg.
“Who cares? The more important thing here is that he said ‘blonde’.”
“Gawky blonde!” the two of them guffawed IQlessly. “That’s a good one, Carl!”
“Have we met?” Carl looked at them with a dazed smile.
“Let’s go start dinner,” Ellie said.
The muggle family left for the dining room. Draco, Vince and Greg remained.
“Finite incantatem!” Draco pointed his wand at the two stone statues. They came back to life and sprinted to the dining room.
***
“There was an evil lord who had a bear, and Bobby was his name-o, B-O-B-I-E, B-O-B-Y, B-O-O-B-Y…”
“You idiots! No wonder you couldn’t get into community college!” Voldemort roared. “You can’t even spell BOBBY?”
“How do you spell it?” Lucius wondered.
“Simple. B-A-O-B-B-Y…I think.” Voldemort scratched his scalp. “I didn’t catch his name quite well enough the first time we met, and he’s never bothered to correct me.”
“The coffin’s finished!” Bellatrix rushed in from the other room with a small box in her hand. It was white with gold frilly corners and a rose corsage.
“Such fine craftmanship!” Voldemort exclaimed, examining it. “Too bad it’s a load of crap. I told you specificially, Bobby’s favourite color---and mine---is PINK. Not white. White is too pure and innocent. What do you think we are, men?”
“All right…pink it is.” Bellatrix went back to the other room.
“I’ve got the golden mask!” Andy rushed in from another room. He was holding a styrofoam mask, painted gold, pink and green. “What does Your Highness think? Huh? It’s got pink. It’s got pink. That gives me an idea. Got pink? Get it, Got Pink? You know that commercial, Got Milk? Huh? Huh?”
“Cruuuuuucio!”
“Oooph!” Andy collapsed onto the floor, clutching his side. “MY APPENDIX!”
“There was an evil lord who had a tantrum and Voldy was his name-o, V-O-L-D-Y, V-O-L-D-Y, V-O-L-D-Y and he was a big mean-o.” Macnair’s head popped into the door. “How’s that for a funeral march?”
“Try something a little more lightspirited, won’t you?” Lucius suggested sarcastically.
“All right. London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…” Macnair left.
“This is a complete MESS,” Voldemort complained. “The coffin’s not pink, the maskmaker has appendicitis, Macnair has turned into the tambourine man, and Bobby is a ball of tangled cotton…BOO-HOO-HOO…” he burst into tears.
“Don’t worry, Tommy, everything is going to be all right,” Sheldon patted Voldemort’s back. “I’ll fix everything, for I am…THE SUPER HOUSEKEEPER!”
Da-da-da-da
The super housekeeper
He’s a man with a superpower
Meaning he can fix the sewer
And make Tommy-boy happier
The super housekeeper
He saves our day
Before you can say
‘Super housekeeper’…okay?
And makes us happy and gay…
He’s the super housekeeper
Yeah
He’s the super housekeeper
Yeah
La-la-la-la-la
The super HOUSEKEEPER!
To the rescue!
Up, up, and away!
A cricket chirped in the far distance.
“All right, here’s the plan:
“Lucius, you take Andy Dolohov to a muggle hospital.
“Bellatrix, you go on painting the coffin pink.
“Macnair, you work on the mask and think up an appropriate song.
“The others can make adornment for Bobby and embalm him.
“Ready, set, GO!”
He’s the super housekeeper…
Please review…it would make me really happy!