(A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took us so long to update. We've been very busy with school. Finals are next week. Meh. Well, I hope you like it. It's not the best; I think that the next one is actually. Hopefully that's up soon, too. It's done. Oh, and please review!)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter universe, and never will. I also don't own the song "I Feel Pretty" from Westside Story. And finally, I do not own any live person in this fan fic (or anything else you recognize).
Useful Background Info:
After the incident with the sparkly hairbrush, Harry decides to give it a rest until that oh-so-happy time when he is once again required to brush his hair before going to bed. He has to, for he doesn’t want those nasty tangles… It is now mid-morning when Aunt Petunia enters the room.
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Aunt Petunia: *enters room*
Room: *is entered*
Harry: Greetings earthling!
Aunt Petunia: Yeah, hi to you to. *looks around for something torturous to make Harry do, and then suddenly hears a shriek*
Shrieker: *shrieks*
Aunt Petunia: Is there something you would like to tell me? *forces a “supportive” smile*
Harry: Nope * looks baffled*
Shrieker: *shrieks again*
Aunt Petunia: Are you sure? *forces a smile that makes her look like she’s constipated*
Harry: I have no idea what you are talking about! *says fast, but still looks confused nonetheless*
Shrieker: * still shrieking*
Aunt Petunia: What the [insert any word that you feel fits appropriately in this extremely long blank]! Did you not just hear that shriek just then? *face is turning the color of a radish*
A radish: *looks insulted*
Aunt Petunia: *now she not only looks like a constipated radish, but an insane one at that*
Shrieker: *shrieks one final time, as this is starting to get annoying to everyone but Harry. Because he is stupid. And weird. And … *
Harry: Oh that! That silly noice is just Ron! *looks relieved*
Aunt Petunia: Who? *looks incredibly confused, angry, disgusted, mean, even more confused, some other adjectives…*
Harry: Ha! Ha! It’s almost like your face is going off on a tangent! *looks on the verge of tears as he doubles over from laughing*
A Certain Geometry Teacher: *comes in from hallway with a chocolate bar in his hand*
Aunt Petunia: Boy! Just make him go away. He’s freaky.
Harry: Ok! *makes a certain geometry teacher and his chocolate disappear before he even gets a word in on the uses of protractors.*
Aunt Petunia: Ok! That’s enough! NOW DO YOUR CHORES!!
Harry: Yes, sir! Wait! Ma’am.
Aunt Petunia: Meh.*leaves, finally*
Harry: la la la…
Shrieker: la la la *in shrieky voice*
Harry: I wonder… *looks under bed to find Ron and a stuffed spider wrestling for the last lemon drop* I knew it!
Ron (a.k.a. Shrieker): I *sigh* want *cough* it! *dies* (I am just kidding, as this would ruin a useful and humorous friendship that will be needed in upcoming chapters)
Harry: I’m just going to leave you here. I need to weed the garden.
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Some More Useful Background Info:
Harry is now outside in the garden working on his first chore on his long list of slave duties.
Harry: la la la
Pretty Purple Flower: la la la
Harry: *bursts into song* I feel pretty…
Pretty Purple Flower: Oh so pretty…
Adam Sandler: *appears and looks around* I feel pretty!
Pretty Purple Flower: And witty!
Harry: *bellows* AND GAY!!!!!!!!!!!
Jack Nicholson: *also appears and looks around for angry people* And I pity…
Pretty Purple Flower: Any girl who isn’t me…
Adam Sandler: Today!
Jack Nicholson: La! La! La! Laaa! La! La! La! La! La! La! La! La! La!
Harry: Look at that pretty girl in the mirror there!
Jack Nicholson: What mirror? Where?
Adam Sandler: Who could that pretty girl be?
Pretty Purple Flower: Which one? Where? Hum!
Jack Nicholson: Such a pretty face!
Adam Sandler: Such a pretty face!
Pretty Purple Flower: Such a pretty face!
Harry: SUCH A PRETTY FACE!
All: *return to normal voice*
Adam Sandler: Yeah…
Pretty Purple Flower: Wow!
Harry: I feel pretty. *gets weird looks* No really.
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An Extra Dosage of Useful Background Info:
Harry finishes his chores-alone-and returns to his room. It is now late, so he goes to bed, exhausted and phlegmy.
For hours and hours he sleeps, totally oblivious to the fact that he is snoring. Very loudly. Waking up everybody in the neighborhood. And making them cranky. (Oh, so manly.)
But when the Pretty Purple Flower led a number of other Pretty [ insert any color you wish] Flowers into his room, he had no idea what was going on. Because he was sleeping. And snoring. Very loudly. And waking up all the neighbors. And making them cranky. (Oh, so Harry-like).
Oh, and by the way, the flowers were actually doing some various dances (i.e. the Cha Cha, the Tango, the Can Can, some square dances, the Chicken Dance, etc, etc) and declaring their love for Harry. But of course he didn’t know this. Because he was sleeping. And snoring. Very loudly. And waking up all the…