Hatty Smatter and the Dangerous Steak (UNFINISHED)

A LETTER FROM THE PUBLISHER

From the desk of Mustard Toastknuckles

Hi, I'm Mustard Toastknuckles and I published this book. To be brutally honest, the first thought that went through my head while I was reading this was "What kind of prick would take a large chunk of valuable time out of his life to write this crap?" Then I met with the author, Slunchy B. Fistbiscuit and I should have seen it; never expect a book to be fantastic when it's written by someone who's named Slunchy. But I guess that doesn't mean much comin' from a guy named Mustard.
Anyways, as the publisher, I guess I have to put in a good word for this sheer load of butt baloney. So here I go.
It's a really good book! I like the part where Hatty's face gets smeared in dookie! I love this book! It kept me from killing myself!
I'm goin' home now to watch Monday Night Football, eat hot dogs, drink beer, beat my wife, watch porn and do drugs…but most of all – be American. Because that's what America is all about.
I sodomize green beans and chocolate cakes.

Mustard Toastknuckles

CAUTION!

Do not eat batteries.

Also, this book is rather crude.
This book contains many jokes about bodily functions, male anatomy and contains strong language, such as "kung fu". "karate" and "Tom Hanks". This book also contains quite a large sum of swearing. Anyone with a weak heart should immediately put this book on a grill and burn it.
In fact, everyone with this book should do that.
However, if you are one of those few sick minded perverts who get a jolly good kick out of a young boy scrupulously eating his own vomit, then by all means, continue reading…

FOREWARD
[as if you'd read this anyways]

Listen here or I'll slap the acne offa yer arse!
This book is not endorsed by Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, miss Rowling or any other entities holding copyright or license to the Harry Potter books or films, so don't think I get any real thrill out of them not knowing I exist.
This is a work of parody.
Any similarity to copyrighted characters or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Also, I'd like to take this time to give my sincerest apologies to Miss J.K. Rowling.
I did not write this book to insult Harry Potter or because I don't like Harry Potter.
In fact I wrote it because I like it so much.
Don't hate me!
Nobody takes me seriously.
I wish I was dead.
Have a nice day!

God, my head hurts…

OUR GUARANTEE

I'm the author of this crap.
Here in the deep confines of my squishy squeezy brain meats, I always try and think of how to provide the most mindblowingly sickening yet gut-clenchingly entertaining works of fiction imaginable. Every time I write a page, I try to think of what would really make someone vomit. Well, this is my worst yet.
I guarantee that by the time you reach the end of this book, the pages will be splattered in last night's carrot casserole!
Please invest!

p.s. – Side effects may include spewing diarrhea from your ears, drooling mucus from your urethra and the other thing, I don't even want to talk about.

Signed,
Slunchy B. Fistbiscuit

HUH?

You may be wondering why you have this book in your hand.
Well there are a couple reasonable explanations. Here are my ideas.

1. You managed to shell out a few quid to purchase this crap.

2. Someone tossed it onto the ground in disgust and you nicked it.

If either of these apply to you, I'd suggest you jump off a cliff. Or, if you managed to get this book by accident, I'd suggest quickly throwing it off a cliff.
If you actually want to read this dreck, by all means, go ahead, but afterwards you will see yourself as an empty shell with no meaning but to suffer and the rest of your miserable life will be filled with pain and agony. With that knowledge, you will spread your angst among the populace and the world shall become a bleak, sad, meaningless place.
All because of a book.
Ok, I lied. You won't go through manic depression.
If you're standing in the store right now flipping through this, don't go any further! Stop yourself from turning the page and buy the damn book so you will have given me your money before throwing it out your window, cursing it with a painful death.
Buy it.
Go on.
You know you want to.

BUY THE DAMN BOOK!

Have you bought it yet? Good.

Most of all, for Pete, that guy I know who smells like vomit and unfortunately lives down the hall.

There is no text copyright.
There are no illustrations.
We're too lazy to illustrate.
No rights reserved, but did we start out with any?
Published by the library printer.
Publishers for about 5 minutes and then the damn machine got jammed.
Arranged? Nunna yer beeswax.
We don't have a logo. Should we?
I sure wouldn't use it.
Here at Straight from the Crap Shack Press, we don't have obnoxiously tight assholes.
This "publication" may be reproduced and sorted in a retrieval system, and by any means, please do! We need all the publicity we can get! You can reproduce it electronically, mechanically, by photocopying, recording, and otherwise…why would you need my permission to not reproduce it?
I said go on! Go on, go on, go on, go on…
If you want to contact us to send us your hate mail, you may write to:
Knucklebutter, B.S.
Hatty Smatter and the Dangerous Steak/by Sluchy B. Knucklebutter
Don't read this text, it causes cancer.
Summary: Not even I know what this is about.
YUCCH 0-000-00000-0
[1. Fantasy / 2. Witches / 3. Wizards / 4. Parody / 5. Humour / 6. Crap]
Printed on cheap paper at the library.
First American Edition. Did you actually read all of this?

PROLOGUE

Hafassed burped and his motorcycle gave a jolt. It was a magical motorcycle, so naturally, it flew. Hafassed blinked stupidly and then stared lazily forward. He took a swig from the flask (or should I say barrel) on his hip, began to space out, and when he came to, he was heading straight towards a large truck that read "Doughy Doughy Yummy Buns".
He swerved out of the trucks way as the driver honked the horn.
"Hey, wadge whur yer goin', yeh fingerbangin' Snuggle!" Hafassed bellowed, flipping the truck driver off.
Hafassed took another drink and then landed his motorcycle.
"Oi! Jumbledoor!" shouted Hafassed to the empty alleyway.
"No need to shout, Hafassed, I'm right here."
The new voice emitted from a man with so many wrinkles, you'd think he was an elephant's testicle at first sight.
"Oh, right. Hi yeh, Jumbledoor." Hafassed replied, slurring his words "So…eh, yeh. Whut whus tha' task yeh 'ad fer me?"
Jumbledoor gave him a puzzled look, before finally understanding what Hafassed was trying to communicate. If you could call it communicating.
Jumbledoor then nodded understandingly and quickly stuffed both hands into his bright purple pants. Hafassed watched curiously.
"Ar' t'ose teh wuns wit' Michael Jacks'n on 'em?"
Jumbledoor didn't reply.
After several minutes of thrashing and crotch thrusting, Jumbledoor whipped out a small child from the deep confines of his violet lederhosen.
"A BABY? I DON'T WAN' A BABY!" yelped Hafassed, startled.
Jumbledoor mustered quite a bit of gusto and slapped him on the head.
"It's not for you, jerkass, it's for the Dorklys!"
And with this, Jumbledoor shoved the baby into Hafassed's enormous arms and disappeared. Hafassed looked at the spot where Jumbledoor had stood, then at the baby. God, he really needed a drink.

CHAPTER 1

Hatty leaned over the toilet and let the yellow rain fly.
He let out a relieved sigh; his bladder had been ready to bust at the seams. That sigh was soon turned into a disgusted grunt however, noticing the large amounts of urine he had splashed upon his legs. Actually, it was everywhere.
Dripping bodily fluids, he took some obscenely rough toilet paper to his – Alright, this is sick! Who writes this crap?
I do? Oh, alright then, back to the story.
After Hatty's Thrilling Bathroom Adventure, the sequel to American 80's blockbuster Spiff and Spleen's Extravagant Journey…
Wait, what? Wow, one page into the first chapter and already this book makes no sense. Well no more! I refuse to write any more of this!
Go to your local book retailer and ask for your money back.

THE END

Well, due to a horrifically obscene phone call from my publisher, I've decided to go back to work on this crap. Forget what I said about asking for your money back. Quick, turn the page!

CHAPTER 1

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER NICKEL

Hatty Smatter had never had a pleasant birthday in the whole of his lifetime.
His family always remembered to give him something of course, but it usually wasn't anything special. His Aunt Peptone and Uncle Vermin were the Dorklys, the current residents of 4 Pervert Drive. What they did each year, was open the door to his washing machine, yank him out, and drag him forcefully by the arms to their neighbor's trash bin, and from there, he was allowed to pick out any single piece of trash that he wanted. Exciting, right?
Their neighbors however, were soup fanatics, and by now, Hatty had collected roughly twenty soup cans from around the world (one for each birthday, one for each Christmas). Hatty had a wide array of cans indeed, some even from Mozambique, and who knew that soup was manufactured in Mozambique?
Hatty, of course, was clueless of where Mozambique was, for he had never had a day in school. And for all you wondering, curious folks out there, Mozambique is in Africa. Now let's get on to the story, shall we?
Despite the many horrid smells emitting from the cans, Hatty somehow knew this year was going to be different. The first clue was when the Dorklys had already gotten his present for him. Uncle Vermin came down the stairs, opened up the door to Hatty's washing machine, and tossed a medium-sized, soft but lumpy package lazily wrapped in tin foil at him. Vermin slammed the door shut again and left the basement. Hatty struggled maliciously with the package, and after several minutes, could still not manage to get it open.
Hatty stared at the present, breathing loudly ("shut up, boy!"), with a single vein bulging from his forehead. He tore it open and let out a yelp of joy.
This year was indeed different. The present inside was revealed to be an old green striped turtleneck sweater.
Hatty grinned happily at it, and slowly ripped the banana peel that was hanging from the collar off. He jammed the sweater over his head, where the neon green stripes clashed horridly with his hair.
Coincidentally, Mr. and Mrs. Dorkly had brought him clothing because it was also Dumbly's birthday, which meant he had to look nice.
"C'mere!" shouted Uncle Vermin from the living room.
Hatty tugged at the collar of the sweater irritably before kicking open the small window and clambering out, only to receive a blow to the face from his cousin Dumbly.
Hatty rubbed his sore cheek where it had been struck and walked out into the living room where he overheard his Uncle Vermin ranting.
"Why do people think 'sheeple' is a funny word? Because it's not, God damn it!"
He noticed Hatty listening in and shouted at Hatty "Go taste your aunt's tuna casserole, boy! I want to know what it tastes like!"
Hatty couldn't argue. He walked into the small kitchen and grabbed the crusty plastic fork with a piece of tape that had "Fanny" (an obvious misspelling of Hatty's name) written on it from the cupboard and vigorously jammed it into the moist casserole displayed before him. After one bite, his face contorted into an expression of mingled fury and disgust, but he choked it down nonetheless.
"Yecch, this tastes like a bottle of ass!" Hatty said.
"WHUDJA SAY, BOY?" Uncle Vermin blared back at him.
"Oh, er, I mean…it's good!" Hatty said, flashing his uncle a fake but strangely convincing toothy smile.
He looked over at his cousin, who was watching Celibacy Street.
"Stupid fuckin' bird bitch." Dumbly said lamely as he leaned back in his chair and accidentally snorted some Fizzle Cola into his left nostril,
Vermin and Peptone roared with laughter at Dumbly's obscene comment. Hatty had to admit, he thought it was pretty funny too, so he let out a quiet chuckle.
His aunt and uncle immediately jerked their heads his way, glaring menacingly at him. Uncle Vermin gripped his mustache with both hands and ripped it off of his face, causing him to howl in pain.
Hatty ran. See Hatty run. Run, Hatty, run.
When Vermin had caught up to Hatty and was just about to clobber him a good one, a little man-dog-type-thing appeared over Vermin's head. He had big eyeballs, about as big as medicine balls and was hopping around in a sock, constantly struggling to keep it from sliding off of his body.
"Wha?" Vermin mused stupidly as the little creature bounced on his head as a pathetic attempt to stop him from pummeling Hatty.
"You-must-not-harm-Hatty-Smatter!" shouted the little man, jumping on Vermin's head on every word.
Vermin ignored this, gripped the man in the sock in his fist, and crushed his ribs, then threw him in the trash.
"Harm…not…Smatter…bladder…" the little man moaned feebly as he climbed slowly out of the bin.
Just then, Vermin really brought down the gusto, conking the little man on the noggin with a spatula. I know you may not think a spatula could do much harm, but Vermin worked in a screwdriver factory, which was a sign that he was obviously nuts and could do some serious damage.
"Brains…crushed…spleen…letter." moaned the man, tossing a letter at Hatty and then finally dropping off into the little wastebasket.
He suddenly appeared again.
"Wait, wait…" he coughed. He then turned to Hatty and said feebly "There is…another…Skywalker…"
Burping up blood, the little sock man fell back into the trash.
While this had been slightly gruesome, it did give Hatty some time to retreat to his fortress a la washing machine, where there he began to tear open the letter. Hatty skimmed over it a bit with an awkward smirk. The letter read:
Hogfarts School of Wheezecraft and Wheezerdry

Addressed to Hatty Smatter
Dear Hatty, we are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogfarts School of Wheezecraft and Wheezerdry.
Your ride will arrive tomorrow at seven p.m.
When you board, ask for Reuben Hafassed.
For a good time, ask for Linda.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Standard Book of Spells grade 1 by Banana Goddammit
Notions for Potions by Giddidon Stockmart
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter)
1 set of school robes
1 pet (optional) –
Choice of owl, cat or pubes with googly eyes stuck on them.

Yours truly,
Alvin Jumbledoor

This was too much for Hatty to handle.
He was a wizard? He'd have to go to magic school? Another Skywalker?
What the hell is going on in this book?
"HATTY!" Uncle Vermin roared from the kitchen "GET READY, ITS YOUR BROTHER'S BIRTHDAY AND YOU HAVE TO COME TO THE ZOO WITH US!"
Hatty stepped out of his washing machine, adjusting his new sweater.
"How come?" he asked.
"Because we can't have you sitting around this place by yourself! Besides, you know you're not allowed to have freedom!"
"Oh." Hatty said as if taking a mental note "right."
His cousin Dumbly was stomping on the stairs, chanting "MY BIRTHDAY, WHUDJA GET ME!" at his parents.
Aunt Peptone just gave out a little chuckle right before Dumbly hollered "HEY LOOKIT, PLIERS IS HERE!"
Pliers Popefist was Dumbly's best friend. Personally, Hatty hated the kid ever since the time he put a razor blade in his salami sandwich.
Once Hatty and the gang had filed into the car (it was hard to believe there was enough room), Hatty tried to relax in the glove compartment. You may be thinking it must be hard to stuff yourself in a glove compartment, but when you're living in a washing machine for eleven years, you'll find a glove compartment is quite spacey.
"Crank up the tunes!" Pliers shouted right at Hatty, who covered his ears and said "Ow! Shit!"
With a wince, Hatty turned the dial and Rick Astleybegan to emit from the speakers. Hatty plugged his ears and began to retreat back into his glove compartment like a turtle as Vermin, Peptone, Dumbly and Pliers bobbed their heads robotically.
The blasting tones of "You know the rules and so do I" were too much for him to take. He felt like he was surrounded by retarded people (which, ironically, he would be later in the book). He also felt like a good old fashioned vomit would be appropriate.
When they had arrived at the zoo, Vermin leaned his head back towards the back seat, tugging, almost yanking on his mustache to emphasize what he was going to be saying.
"ALRIGHT, WHO WANTS ICE CREAM?" he bellowed, making Pliers' wig fly off. Pliers swiped for it, and missed.
They all filed out of the car, Hatty last, and walked towards the ice cream stand by the entrance to the zoo.
Pliers got a fudge pop, Dumbly got a lemon pop, Vermin and Peptone both got Don King pops, which were in the shape of Don King's head.
"Hey, what do I get?" asked Hatty.
"Here, have this." replied Vermin, flipping him a nickel.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Shove it in your hole." Vermin retorted as Dumbly and Pliers guffawed stupidly nearby. Hatty shot them all a dark look, muttered something that sounded scrupulously like "buffalo anal vomit" and stormed off into the reptile section. Don't worry about where the rest of the group went; it's not important to the story (if there even is one).
Once there, Hatty ran around a bit, looking bored.
Stupid zoo. Stupid Vermin not getting him ice cream. Stupid iguana.
Hatty stared at a snake glumly, who slithered towards him. Hatty thought that he had heard the snake say something about fuzzy mittens, but he could not be quite sure.
"Excuse me, did you just say something about fuzzy mittens?" he asked the snake, who turned around instantly.
"You can talk to snakes?" the snake hissed back.
"Er, I guess so…wait, what the hell? I can talk to snakes?"
Things were getting too weird for Hatty lately, what with being a wizard and knowing there was another Skywalker (Who was this Skywalker fellow anyways? Whoever he was, Hatty wanted to make fun of his name) and piled on top of that, he could talk to snakes.
"I'm a FREEEEEEEEEAK!" Hatty shrieked at the snake, who winced.
"Quit shouting, it just means you're a Parsleytongue." the snake replied, plugging his ears with his tail.
"A what?" Hatty said stupidly.
"Parsleytongue. Someone who can talk to snakes and whose mouth reeks of parsley. Don't worry, you're not the only one. Sloppily Splatterin could talk to snakes too." the snake replied calmly, still wincing from the shock of Hatty's shriek.
"Who was Sloppily Splatterin?" Hatty asked.
"Damn kid, you sure do ask a lot of questions!" the snake said, obviously ticked "Sloppily Splatterin was one of the founders of Hogfarts School of Wheezecraft and Wheezerdry, along with Rippled Ravenclod, Hippo Huffinpuffin and Claptrack Piffnpour."
"Oh, I understand now…I guess. I'm going to Hogfarts for my first year after the holiday." Hatty replied, not caring to say much else.
The snake winked, said "Jumbledoor likes Fizzly Whizzles." and slithered off again to mate with a bear's butt.
Hatty was confused, and the author couldn't think of anything else to write, so he began a new paragraph on the next page.
"'APPY BIRFDAY, HATTY!"
Hatty jolted out of bed, obviously startled. Clutching at his chest as if he was having a heart attack, he accidentally turned on the rinse cycle on his washing machine.
Soaking wet, he climbed out of the little round door.
"Sorry I'm late." said the voice that had awoken him.
Hatty looked around and spotted who was talking. The man was a giant with a big bushy beard, which Hatty could tell he had used to store all sorts of food. The man reached inside his beard and pulled out a burrito. Munching on the burrito, the man began to speak.
"Hi thar, I'm Hafas'd." said the man, thrusting an enormous hand towards Hatty, almost slamming him in the face.
"Oh, you're the one I was supposed to ask for." Hatty said back, trying his hardest to ignore Hafassed's hand tapping him on the cheek.
"Tha's righ'! Anyways, I'm hur now, a bit late, but th' Blight Bus go' d'l'y'd." the giant named Hafassed said "Fla' tire." he added, as if that was supposed to explain everything.
Finally being forced to admit that Hafassed had a hand that needed to be shook, Hatty decided on giving him a weak high five.
Hafassed withdrew his hand and looked at it with a look of confusion on his face, which was well, mostly a beard.
"It's called a high five." Hatty explained as Hafassed continued to stare blankly at his appendage. Hatty did a facepalm.
After a while of Hatty holding his head in his hands, Hafassed grabbed Hatty and jerked him forward. Hatty slammed into the door.
"Hey!" Hatty said irritably, shooting Hafassed a dirty look.
"Tough love." Hafassed mumbled, turning red, before muttering "Yuh dumb muvverfugger." under his breath.
Overhearing this, but choosing to ignore it, Hatty asked "So how are we going to Hogfarts?"
Hafassed burped, patted his stomach and let out a low grunt.
"Bes' damn hot dogs I ever did hav'." he said fondly, letting a loud fart escape from his hindquarters. The strong gust of wind was enough to blow the window on Hatty's washing machine off its hinges.
"Er, well uh…we're goin' on th' Blight Bus."
"Blight Bus?" Hatty questioned.
"It's a magical bus. Like th' ones you hav' hur. O'ly purple." Hafassed explained proudly, grabbing Hatty's arm and jerking him out the door.
Hatty hated the vice grip Hafassed had on his arm, but he was afraid that if he said anything, the giant might rip his arm out of the socket.
"OI! BLIGHT BUS! PULL OVER GOD DAMN IT!" Hafassed bellowed into the air, waving his arms in the air wildly, with Hatty still attached.
A purple bus skidded to a stop right in front of them and Hafassed ushered a very dizzy Hatty onto the transport.
The conductor, Bland Blunderpike, appointed them a seat.
Hatty sat next to the window and Hafassed sat next to him. Instantly, the giant fell asleep and mucus began to leak from Hafassed's oversized nostrils.
Thus began the magical adventure of a young boy with snot slowly mucking down his shoulder.
This is the longest chapter in the book probably. Don't like it? Tough.
I had my fun, and that's all that matters.

CHAPTER 2
HEY, NICE DIABETES

Hatty was awoken by a firm punch in the arm. He winced.
"'Ey 'Atty, guess whuh!" Hafassed slurred.
"Hmm…You're sober?" Hatty guessed, still somewhat startled by the blunt awakening.
"How did yuh gesh?" Hafassed belched, eyes widening.
"You're not slurring your words as much." Hatty replied thoughtfully.
"'Atty trullee ish th' choshun wun!" Hafassed muttered to himself. Hatty was the only one who could tell the difference in Hafassed's speech when he was drunk and when he was sober.
"So where are we?" Hatty asked, staring around as the Blight Bus pulled to a full stop in front of a man selling used diapers.
"Dis is Di'betic Alley. Dis where all th' wizur's go ter git thar shoppin' done." Hafassed explained "So hammy yer list."
"What list?" Hatty asked, confused.
"Th' list tha' came wiff th' letter Jumbledoor sent yeh." Hafassed said.
"Oh, right." Hatty said, retrieving the letter and handing it to Hafassed.
Hafassed skimmed over it, occasionally saying something like "Wunwon". After he was finished reading, he crumpled it in his massive fist and tossed it at some old fella with a cane.
"I love the young people." the old man said just before getting hit in the face with the list.
"Righ'. So we need ter git yuh a wan', a cauldr'n, an owl, some robes an' a coupla o' books. We don't got time ter git yer cauldron, the bus leaves in hav-n-er so I'll geddit later." Hafassed said, yanking Hatty down Diabetic Alley by his leg.
They marched (or in Hatty's case, got dragged) into Ballhandler's wand shop.
"May I help y-" started Ballhandler, the man who ran the store.
"WUNWON. NOW." belched Hafassed loudly at Ballhandler.
Ballhandler let out a squeak like a five year old school girl who dropped her lollipop and chucked a random box at the giant.
Hafassed opened the box, peeked inside and chucked it back at Ballhandler while yelling "TOO LI'L. YUH THINK I'MMA LET 'ATTY BE SEEN WIFF A LI'L WAN'?"
Ballhandler backed into the corner, fell on his arse and threw another.
Hafassed checked again.
"PINK? WHO IN THAR RIGH' MIND WOULD WAN' A PINK WAN'?"
Ballhandler peed his pants as he tossed wand after wand at Hafassed.
After about thirty wands, Hafassed hollered "DIS WUN. DISSIS TH' WAN'. FE FI FO FUM, POOP IS CRUSTIN' ON ME OLD MUM'S BUM."
Hafassed gripped Ballhandler's head and slammed it into the counter.
"Thanks." he muttered, slamming the door of the shop behind him.
Hatty tapped Hafassed on the shoulder nervously.
"Yeh?" Hafassed grunted.
"Er…maybe you should let me do the talking." Hatty suggested.
"Yeh maybe." Hafassed said, lighting a foot long cigarette.
He took a long drag of his cigarette and gave Hatty a rough shove.
"Well git goin', Tha' store righ' thar. Furnish and Butts." Hafassed said.
Hatty looked at the store in front of him. The sign said "Furnish and Butts – Book retailers since whenever."
He walked inside and headed directly for the counter.
"May I help you find something?" asked the man at the desk.
"Uh…" Hatty said stupidly, trying to remember the names of the books "Standard Book of Spells Grade One and Notions for Potions."
The store clerk reached under his desk and smacked Hatty on top of the head with the books chanting "Doop da doop da doop, on my face, I smear poop".
"Was that really necessary?" Hatty asked, rubbing the sore spot on his head. Hatty yanked the books from the clerk.
"Well no. I just wanted to bother you. Tee hee!" the clerk giggled.
Hatty flipped him off and walked out of the shop to meet Hafassed.
"Git yer books?" asked Hafassed.
"Yeah, and a couple of lumps." Hatty said irritably.
"Eh, tha's jus' Earl. He does tha' ter everyone." Hafassed said, putting his cigarette out on the back of a witch passerby's neck. She shrieked.
"Whiner." said Hafassed.
Hafassed grabbed Hatty and started walking in the opposite direction.
"Now we've gotta go git yer owl." Hafassed said "Yuh need an owl fer owl mail. Tha's how we deliv'r our mail. By owl. Owl mail. Wiff owls."
They turned a corner and entered the pet shop.
"WUNOWL!" Hafassed bellowed at the clerk.
Hatty put his head in his hands.
The clerk handed Hafassed an owl, who backed away in her cage.
"I like her." Hatty said "I'm gonna name her Earwig."
"EARWIG? WHAT THE HELL…ah, whuddever." Hafassed snorted "Anyways, we gotta catch th' Bligh' Bus 'ere."
They waited a few minutes until that same, familiar large purple bus came to a stop in front of them. The doors opened and Bland Blunderpike took their luggage.
"Blunderpike." Hafassed mumbled, tipping his hat respectively.
"Giant, hollering, mucus dripping, bumbling idiot." Blunderpike replied, tipping his hat.
Hafassed and Hatty sat down once more and the bus zipped off to who knows where, I won't explain; I'm too lazy.

CHAPTER 3
ALL ABOARD!

Hatty glanced out the window, and saw that the Blight Bus was pulling into a train station. Above the front gate, there was a sign that read:
Platform 6 ½
Board the train and ride to anywhere from Hogfarts to Finland to Korea and beyond!
This is the train to take to get anywhere!
Note: Does not make stops in Seattle. But what the hell would you be doing in Seattle anyway?

"Platform six and a half. Named after the size of Merlin's wand." Bland Blunderpike announced to the passengers aboard the bus.
"Oi, this is our stop!" Hafassed called to Bland.
"Right so." he said, spitting out his chewing tobacco into an old woman's purse. She shot him a fierce look, but he just grimaced and spat "Ah, shuddap ya dirty old biddy!"
The frail old woman clenched at her chest and passed out.
Hafassed rolled his eyes and shoved Hatty out of the bus. Hatty's shoulders slammed into the exit – the doors weren't even close to being open yet. He let out a yelp of pain and Hafassed replied with a caring "Suck it, whiner."
Hatty glared, but brushed it off and continued to walk to the boarding area. He heard a whistle and spun to see that he was closer to the train than he thought.
Large puffs of smoke were emitting from the large maroon train-
"AW, HELL NO! MAROON?" Hatty blared at the author "I GOTTA RIDE IN A MAROON TRAIN?"
"What's wrong with maroon?" the author questioned.
"What's wrong with maroon? WHAT'S WRONG WITH MAROON? There are LOADS of things wrong with maroon!" Hatty shouted.
"Fine, fine, I'll change the colour." the author said, changing the train's maroon paintjob to mauve "There, it's mauve. Happy now?"
"NO." Hatty replied grumpily.
"Well fuck you." the author said. He quit typing, walked away, kicked a chair and drank a Fanta.
Hatty just stood in the middle of the platform, mouth agape. Surprisingly, Hafassed's jaw had dropped too. Maybe it wasn't so much the fact that he was surprised. Maybe it was just that he was extremely surly. Or both. Who knows; who cares.
Once they had both snapped out of their trance, Hatty began to hear voices. He looked around a spotted several red haired children and their parents walking towards the train. Hatty grimaced.
"Eww, ginger kids!" he said with an expression of pure disgust.
"We're not gingers, we just have red hair!" shouted back a tall boy of the group from across the platform "Unfortunately!"
Hatty shrugged and decided that was good enough. Now he wouldn't have to put on his home made biohazard suit.
Suddenly the group began to run towards a cement support beam.
"Hey, they must be running towards it to try and get to a different area or something!" Hatty suggested smartly, raising a finger in the air.
Hafassed replied with a simple "Nope."
Hatty's air-finger drooped slightly as he saw every member of the group collide with the cement beam. Then they began to board the train. Hatty decided to follow suit, with the exception of the cement support beam collide.
Just his luck, Hatty got stuck in the same compartment with one of the obnoxious red haired kids. Hatty murmured a few swears and sat.
The boy's eyes bulged as Hatty sat down in the compartment.
"What are you lookin' at, Skippy?" Hatty asked, somewhat miffed.
The boy just gawked, his mouth slowly drooping as a little glob of saliva came dribbling down onto his flannel pajama pants.
"What, am I some sort of magical celebrity?" Hatty snapped angrily.
The red haired boy just sat, his eyelids slowly beginning to close, but eventually landed themselves in a sort of half-open glazed over look.
He didn't stir until a big gerbil crawled out of his pants and chomped down on his finger. The boy let out a startled yelp and then spotted Hatty. His eyes grew wider than before.
"Oh boy." Hatty mumbled, putting his head in his hands. He could tell where this was leading.
But unlike last time, the boy began to speak.
"You're…you're…you're…" sputtered the boy "A kid! Like me!"
Hatty's anticipation was fucking shot, and he slumped back in his seat.
"WAIT!" screeched the boy, jabbing his pointer finger vigorously into Hatty's forehead "YOU'RE HATTY SMATTER! JESUS IN DUNGAREES!"
"'Jesus in Dungarees'…?" Hatty wondered as if he hadn't heard the boy mention his name.
"HATTY SMATTER! WOW! PLEASED TA MEETCHA!" the boy hollered, gripping Hatty's hand and flicking it across the compartment in every which way.
"I'M WON!" the boy shrieked directly into Hatty's ear.
Hatty winced and said "Ow! Shit!"
Temporarily deaf, Hatty seized the opportunity to leap out of the compartment. He collided with one of what he assumed to be Won's older brothers.
"Holy crap, Hatty Smatter!" the boy gasped.
Hatty was already sick of this.
"Go suckle on my Aunt Bertha's nimble teat." he said to the boy.
"Okay." the older boy replied enthusiastically, and ran away to go find said teat. Then the author's mind drew a blank again and he decided to begin a new paragraph.
Okay…still can't think of anything here…
It was nighttime and Won was sleeping, kicking his legs like a dog.
Hatty was so intrigued by this that he didn't notice a girl come into the compartment. As if it wasn't crowded enough in that place.
"Good day to you. My name is Hormonal Cracker, but most people just call me Cheese-Cracker." the girl said formally, sticking her hand out. Hatty smirked.
"Trust me, you don't know where this thing's been." Hatty said, indicating to his hand, thinking back to when Won vigorously shook it.
Cheese-Cracker backed away slowly with a weird look on her face.
"Don't worry, I haven't been doing what you think I've been doing."
Relieved, Cheese-Cracker rebuilt the dike.
"Who is this?" she asked, nodding towards Won, who was now kicking out more frantically than he had been before.
"That, my friend, is Won Queasy." Hatty answered.
Won jumped at the sound of his name, looking around excitedly.
"Won, this is Cheese-Cracker." Hatty introduced to the newly awakened Won.
"Cheese-Cracker!" Won bellowed with a smile. He shoved Hatty out of the way and shook the girl's hand enthusiastically.
Cheese-Cracker stiffened and gave Hatty a worried look.
Hatty just gave back a sympathetic one, which lasted an uncomfortably long time until Won peed his pants and the author crapped out again and began a new chapter.

CHAPTER 5
THE SPURTING CEREMONY

Students piled along the obnoxiously narrow hallways, shoving each other and occasionally slamming a first year’s head into the wall for a spot. Hatty kicked fellow first years out of the way.
“Move it! Wizard celebrity comin’ through!” he shouted, battering a young boy named Fizgit Gorkinbean into submission.
Hatty was first to reach the doors of the Great Hall and he shoved the doors open. Inside were four tables, all lined with students with large banners hanging over them. In front of the tables, there was a large platform with one long table on it, where the staff was seated.
The students from the previous year cheered unenthusiastically as the first years were directed to the center of the Great Hall. Suddenly their feet began to shift and moved them into a single file line according to alphabetical order. A tall stick thin woman rose from her seat at the staff table and moved to the front of the platform, an old musty looking hat in her hands. She looked like a gentle, soft spoken motherly sort of woman. The woman was wearing a very kind smile.
“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!” she shrieked, veins a-poppin’.
Everyone in the room jumped in surprise. Hatty’s eyes bulged as a first year behind him crossed her eyes and fainted. Everyone in the room immediately became silent and directed their attention towards her.
The woman pulled out a wand and pointed it at the ground.
“Vaporizo Stool!” she said.
After a while, a steaming hunk of crap vaporized out of nowhere. The girl who had fainted before got off the floor and fainted again.
“That’s…that’s not the kind of stool I meant…” she muttered.
She repeated her incantation and a chair appeared in front of her.
She set the hat on top of it and tapped it with her wand.
The hat sprang to life and yawned as its little flaps waved around uselessly. The flopsy little hat pulled out a little pill bottle.
“Allergies?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow.
The hat coughed a “yes”. The woman looked back at the staff table. A long bearded man in the middle of the table quit sucking his thumb and gave the woman a wink. The hat swallowed a couple of pills and began to speak.
“Alright, get this straight you little berks; I’m the Spurting Hat. You don’t like me and I don’t like having your filthy little heads in my ass! Now I’m going to recite a little limerick for you all. Ahem!

Now listen you little pricks
I’ve got somethin’ to say
My speech may not be the best
Nor is it finely honed
But if you want to go to Hogfarts
You’ll have to listen to me drone
You might be put in Piffnpour
Everyone in that house is a real bore
Everyone is a snore right to the core!
You might be in Huffinpuffin
Everyone in that house is the same
Yes it’s true, they’re all extremely lame!
You might be in Ravenclod
Everyone in that house is a real nut
Their personalities are rot, rubbish and rut!
You might be in Splatterin’
Everyone in that house is a berk
They all act snobby, like a real jerk!
That was my poem, its over, it’s done
Now let’s do this quickly, I’ve got the runs!”

The hat grunted and let out a little toot. Its flaps jiggled a little.
The woman pulled out a large piece of parchment from underneath her large emerald green hat and cleared her throat.
“First off – Bitsalami, Burrito.” she read.
The girl in the front of the line shuffled forward nervously. Pee dripped slowly down her legs. The woman sat Burrito Bitsalami on the stool and placed the Spurting Hat on her head.
“PIFFNPOUR!” blared the hat right into the girl’s ears.
“YOWCH!” she screamed. Instantly she covered her ears and dropped to the floor, spinning in circles. The caretaker, Argyle Filth swept her to the side of the Great Hall with a giant push broom.
“Ooh, it’s my turn!” Cheese-Cracker said excitedly, bouncing in place.
“Cracker, Hormonal.” read the woman.
Cheese-Cracker was sorted into Piffnpour.
“Doublecups, Frederick!” the woman called.
A cheery looking black boy fully dressed in Ravenclod gear enthusiastically zipped to the stool, waving Ravenclod flags.
“My entire family has been in Ravenclod!” he said, yanking the hat out of the woman’s hands and jamming it on his head.
The Spurting Hat was about to declare Fred a Huffinpuffin until he saw a fifty waving in front of him. Coincidentally, the Hat changed his mind and decided to put Fred in Ravenclod.
“Gick, Rumplestumpfuck” was also put in Piffnpour, followed by “Doofus, Yarf”, who was sorted into Splatterin’.
After a while, the list began to get shorter and Hatty’s turn was drawing near. He looked over at Cheese-Cracker, who was sitting next to Won at the Piffnpour table.
“Putrid, Nicholas.”
“HUFFINPUFFIN!” the Spurting Hat shouted. Nicholas Putrid pretended not to hear it. “HUFFINPUFFIN!” the Hat shouted again.
Nicholas Putrid screamed and began sobbing. He got on his knees and begged the hat to be put in any other house.
“The motion stands kid.” the Hat said with a touch of finality.
Nicholas Putrid crawled off to the Huffinpuffin table in tears.
This scene repeated several times while Hatty was waiting. Suddenly, it was his turn to be sorted.
“Smatter, Hatty.”
Hatty smashed the Hat onto his head. It fell completely over his face.
The Hat belched out his answer: “PIFFNPOUR!”
“Are you sure?” asked the long bearded man in the middle of the table.
“Are you kidding?! This is the most Piffnpour-est kid I’ve ever seen!”
With a bit of a struggle, Hatty yanked the hat from his head and bounced over to the Piffnpour table, where Won and Cheese-Cracker sat cheering. Suddenly everything was in slow motion and “Chariots of Fire” began to play.
“Hey, cut that out!” said Hatty irritably.
“Sorry.” coughed one of the Piffnpour students.
Hatty sat down next to his friends to watch the rest of the ceremony.
“That filthy old bat is Professor McFondlegall,” Cheese-Cracker said, indicating to the woman who had been reading off names “And that man in the middle of the table with the long beard and the purple robes is Headmaster Jumbledoor.”
“And I’m Won!” Won said proudly with a wide smile.
“Unfortunately.” Hatty muttered.
After the sorting was through, the man who Cheese-Cracker had identified as Jumbledoor stood and spoke.
“Good evening and welcome to Hogfarts School of Wheezecraft and Wheezerdry, returning students and first years alike. Your class schedules will be handed out to you all after the ceremony is finished.
I would like to tell the new students about the houses. First, Piffnpour.
Piffnpour was founded by Claptrack Piffnpour. The house’s symbol is a vomiting cat because…er…well actually, I don’t know. Why is it a vomiting cat?” he asked a greasy haired man behind him. The man just shrugged.
“Anyways, Huffinpuffin was founded by Hippo Huffinpuffin and its symbol is a beaver, which has cursed the house with ridicule for years and years to come. Next is Ravenclod, which was founded by Rippled Ravenclod and its symbol is a howler monkey…for some reason…
Splatterin’ was founded by Sloppily Splatterin and its symbol is a snake eating some nachos while applying deodorant to someone’s fuzzy armpits.”
Jumbledoor broke out in a sweaty disaster.
“Fine, I admit it! This doesn’t make any sense! Just be distracted by this!” he screamed and with a wave of his hand, large amounts of food appeared on all of the tables.
The local school poltergeist, Sleeves, flew around the room chanting at the top of his lungs “Dibble! Bibble! Oddment and tweak! This book is dumb, and these jokes are weak!”

**********
After eating plenty of food, Hatty’s tuchus began to ache.
He sat in the Great Hall, holding his stomach, his bowels ready to explode as if he had just eaten a huge bowl of Prune Bran.
I should really give Won more lines.
“Hey Hatty, I got your schedule for you.” said Won, approaching Hatty.
The Great Hall was nearly empty at this point, but Hatty didn’t dare move. He felt a lot of fecal matter sloshing around inside him and he didn’t really feel like regurgitating his tapioca.
“Thanks, Won.” Hatty said, taking the schedule from Won’s hand.
Cheese-Cracker was shrieking with glee, hopping all around the room.
“YAY FOR LEARNING!” she bellowed, prancing in circles.
“We all have the same classes together.” said Won, sticking a pencil in his ear as far as it would go. Hatty took a look at his list.

Class Schedule
Hatty Smatter – 1st year

1st period: Flying
Teacher: Madam Hoochy
2nd period: Potions
Teacher: Prof. Snaped
3rd period: Defense Against the Dark Arts
Teacher: Prof. Squirrel
4th period: Charms
Teacher: Prof. Nitwit

Hey Hatty I got yur cawldrun fer yuh.
Yull find it next ter yur bed. I got it discownt at Pay-Mart. I also got yuh a lunchboks wif a pikshur ov Corduroy Stockmart on it. Heez dreemy. - Hafassed

Hatty looked intuitively at his list with a raised eyebrow and uttered only one word that could describe everything that was happening.
“Huh?”

CHAPTER 6
A MEETING WITH THE HEADMASTER

Hatty felt a finger jab into his shoulder. It felt as if someone had crammed a pencil in his skin and twisted.
He spun around and knocked Argyle Filth right in the jaw.
“If my jaw wasn’t dislocated, I’d put your skull in a bleedin’ vice” he muttered through dirty clenched teeth “Headmaster wants a word with you. Follow me.”
Argyle Filth began to stumble off down the hallway. He didn’t know why, but Hatty felt compelled to follow him. And so he did.
Argyle Filth stopped abruptly and whacked Hatty in the ribs with his wooden cane and chuckled stupidly.
“We’re here.” he grumbled, indicating to the spiral staircase.
Hatty gulped, wondering if Jumbledoor had found out about his prank in the bathroom. Sure it was the first night, but Hatty thought he’d have a bit of fun and put ketchup packets under the toilet seat which would not have ended well for anyone needing to dump a load.
Still, he followed the stairs to a doorway guarded by a gargoyle smoking a cigarette. It glanced at him.
“Do I need to say a password or something?” Hatty asked.
“Hold on a minute kid, I’m on break.” the gargoyle replied, slightly frustrated by this untimely interruption. Oh yes, I’m using big words.
The gargoyle took a long drag of his smoke. Literally, it was long.
You try smoking a cigarette made of marble. It takes a damn long time.
“Alright kid, whaddya want?” the gargoyle asked, smushing the cigarette with his stone foot…flipper…thing.
“I came to see Jumbledoor.” Hatty replied nervously.
“Yeah? Hold on, lemme see if that jerk is available.” the gargoyle said without much enthusiasm before leaning his head back and calling out “Hey Jumbledoor, ya got a minute?”
From outside the door, Hatty heard Jumbledoor let out a feeble “Just a second”, a grunt and then a relieved sigh. God, this is really sick.
Hatty made a disgusted face.
“I’ve gotta listen to this every day,” the gargoyle said empathetically “He has one of those new chairs that also has a toilet installed in it.”
“Does it smell in there?” Hatty asked puzzled and a bit afraid.
“Well of course it smells, everywhere smells. It depends on what kind of smell you mean. If you mean dooky, then no. After it’s flushed, it immediately lands in New Jersey.” the gargoyle replied “Jumbledoor, ya ready yet?”
Hatty heard Jumbledoor clear his throat and call out “Yes”.
“Go in, kid.” the gargoyle said, shaking Hatty’s hand.
Man, Hatty wished everyone would stop shaking his hand.
The room was a bit larger than he had expected. There were portraits all over the wall. Not of other Headmasters or anything, but of Jumbledoor himself. Being awarded “The Most Magical Person Ever” award, signing books, his beach vacation in Hawaii…
“Ah yes, Hatty…do take a seat.” Jumbledoor said kindly with a smile.
Hatty sat in one of the chairs in front of Jumbledoor’s desk.
“I called you in here to tell you some things about Hogfart’s you may not know. Now I wonder how old you are?” Jumbledoor mused.
“I’m eleven.” Hatty replied, not sure of what to expect from the man.
Jumbledoor’s glasses cracked and he instantly burst out into laughter. He held his sides and tears began to roll down his cheeks.
“Hahaha! WHOA!! WHOA!!” he hollered, somehow raising his knee high above the desk to slap it a few times.
Hatty felt like it would be a good idea to start backing away…slowly.
“Wait…don’t leave!” Jumbledoor called, wheezing a bit with laughter “Why I find it so funny is because you’re not eleven! You’re sixteen!”
“HUH?!” Hatty screamed.
“Calm down now, calm down.” Jumbledoor said calmly, wiping the tears from his eyes “Yes, you’re sixteen years old. Here in the magical world we start school at sixteen and end at eighteen. That’s three years. Now, I don’t blame you for forgetting how old you are; your aunt and uncle never gave you a calendar and rarely considered your birthday.”
“They gave me cans every year.” Hatty replied.
“Yes, but you didn’t keep count did you?” Jumbledoor replied smartly.
“Er, well no…” Hatty said, turning red.
“You see? Perfectly fine then.” Jumbledoor said, smiling at Hatty.
Hatty suddenly felt calm and relaxed. Jumbledoor worked wonders.
Just then, Jumbledoor jumped on his desk, crossed his eyes, lifted his robes somewhat and began doing a little jig.
Flinging his legs wildly, he began to shout “I’M A WACKY WAFFLE!” over and over. Hatty turned and sped for the exit.
“CRAZY OLD JUMBLEDOOR!!” he yelped at the dancing headmaster.
He slammed the door shut, gasping for air.
“Yeah, he does that a lot.” the gargoyle said sympathetically “Ever since Fried and Gorge Queasy fired a Loopy Bomb in his butt last year. The doctor said the effects should wear off sometime around the next few days.”
Glad that he wasn’t there last year, Hatty nodded to the gargoyle and headed towards Piffnpour tower.

**********
“Password?” asked the Obese Female, who was the guardian to the Piffnpour common room. Hatty glared.
“I don’t need no damn password.” he replied.
“Correct!” the Obese Female said happily, stuffing a chicken wing in her face, slobbering all over her hand. She then swung open, revealing the entrance to the common room.
Hatty stepped inside and instantly was squeezed by Cheese-Cracker, who was holding a pint. The rest of the Piffnpours were slumped together in the corners, trying their best to avoid her.
“Hey, Hatty, I’m drunk!” she giggled.
“Already?!” Hatty asked, raising an eyebrow towards Won.
Won just shrugged.
“God damn it.” he said, shoving Cheese-Cracker. She jumped back and hugged him, then licked the side of his cheek.
“Aw, awww!!” Hatty said, wiping the dog-like slobber from his cheek with the back of his sleeve. He yanked the pint away from her.
“Don’t drink in the castle!” he scolded, tapping Cheese-Cracker on the forehead “Where’d you get this anyways?”
“Brought it from home.” Cheese-Cracker replied, looking sad.
“Jeez kid, you’re a sorry drunk!” one of the Piffnpours shouted.
“Almost as bad as…er…what’s-her-face!” another added.
“Emma Watson!” the first one replied.
“ZIP IT!” Hatty bellowed at them, waving a fist in the air.
By the time, he turned back to Cheese-Cracker, she had a pint in hand and was doing a little dance around the room.
“Ah screw this.” Hatty said “I’m goin’ to bed.”
“Gonna stuff some green beans in your nostri-hills?” Won shrieked.
Hatty tossed a brick at him. It bounced off of Won’s head and smacked poor little Jake Wiffletips in the face. Hatty smirked and went to bed.
The headmaster was a complete loony. Cheese-Cracker was a frickin’ lush and Won was…well, Won. What a great year this was going to be.

CHAPTER 7
BOOPITY BOP PUDDIN’ POPS

Hatty awoke with a yawn. He rubbed his eyes and started straight into the frightening zit-riddled face of Won.
Hatty was ready to smack Won square in the jaw when Cheese-Cracker burst into the room shouting “First day off school!”
Hatty and Won both turned towards her, giving her a very odd look.
“Classes!” she said cheerfully, clapping her hands.
They continued to give her a very odd look. She looked down at the ground uncomfortably and muttered “Flying…”
“Flying, OH BOY!” shrieked Won as he ran to the door and dropped to all fours, licking the hardwood floor. He certainly was a special boy.

**********
“Alright class. Welcome to flying class. I am Madam Hoochy. In this class, I require you to address me as ‘sir’. Never will I allow you to call me H-dawg, Miss Hooch or dirty old bitch. Have I made myself clear children?” said Madam Hoochy as she paced in front of the class.
“Yes sir.” said the children in unison, except for Cheese-Cracker whose voice had suddenly gone out without any explanation ‘cause I’m lazy.
A smirk creased Madam Hoochy’s face as she continued.
“In today’s lesson, we shall be going through a course. There will be a series of rings I want you all to fly through. This is to see who is less pathetic than the rest of you filthy maggots.” she addressed the class.
She stood in front of a chubby buck toothed boy called Melvin Flatbottom and put her hands on his shoulder. She smiled at him.
He relaxed a bit and became less tense and smiled back at her.
“YOU WILL BE A GOOD FLIER! YOU WILL WIN, WIN, WIN! DO YOU HEAR ME LOUD AND CLEAR SOLDIER?!” she hollered.
Melvin Flatbottom almost tipped over and broke out into a sweat.
“Yes Madam Hoochy!” he shouted, his voice shaking.
“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME PRIVATE?!” she bellowed, smushing Melvin’s squishy face into the nearest brick wall.
“SHIR YESH SHIR!” he screamed before passing out, unconscious on the ground. Hatty smirked. He was enjoying this lesson so far.
A couple of boys, Pee Hardon and Bean Christmas ran away crying.
“AW HELL NO!” Madam Hoochy said, rolling up her sleeves.
She hopped onto her broom, sticking the edge of the handle awkwardly in her pooper and chased after them, a large club in hand.
She hit Bean on the head with the club, sending him flying ten feet.
Pee wheeled around and dropped to his knees, pleading for mercy.
Ruthlessly, she smacked him in the jaw with the club, got off the broom, lined Bean and Pee next to each other and began stomping on their heads with her motorcycle boots. Hatty was disgusted.
“I’m scared, Hatty!” said Won, squeezing Hatty’s abdomen.
“Hey you bloody little git! Go squeeze Cheese-Cracker!” Hatty said.
Madam Hoochy’s head swiveled on the spot.
“QUIT YOUR YAPPIN’!” she screeched, her yells echoing off of the walls of the castle. She put on another polite smile.
“Now then, shall we start the flying course?”
She lifted Pee Hardon, whose dreadlocks were smeared with blood onto a broom. He fell off immediately.
“EFF!” she bellowed. She then put a bloodied Bean Christmas on the broom. He received the same grade.
Won shoved his way to the front of the line and hopped on the broom. He did a perfect lift off and speeded straight towards the wall, where he bonked his head onto a statue of Leonardo DiCapitated aka Nearly Dickless Donald, the Piffnpour house ghost.
He fell about thirty feet where he smacked his head onto the gravel.
“Are you alright?” asked a girl running towards him to help.
He stood unexpectedly, looking heroic. He brushed the dirt off of his robes, jabbed his finger in the air as if making a great discovery and shouted “Twoll bogies!” He then fell to the ground and began snoring.
“You next, Private Smatter!” she said, scribbling on a clipboard.
He sighed deeply, got on the broom and flew.
He flew through all the rings and landed perfectly in front of the rest of the class. He was proud of his achievement and smiled.
“C for trying.” said Madam Hoochy with a shrug.
Cheese-Cracker tried to say “What?!” but just uttered a little squeak.
“Hey, I said SHADDAP!” Madam Hoochy shouted, giving Cheese-Cracker a straight blow to the throat.
“Hey, my voice is back!” Cheese-Cracker said. She gripped Madam Hoochy’s hand and began to shake it. Then she ripped it off.
Madam Hoochy howled in pain.
“Hey, has anyone noticed how all of these paragraphs always end with something really awkward and uncomfortable?” Cheese-Cracker asked, before reaching into her pants to scratch her butt crack.

**********
“Well that sure sucked.” Hatty said to Cheese-Cracker as they walked back to the castle. Won hopped merrily alongside them.
“Yeah, let’s never do that again.” Cheese-Cracker replied “So anyways, how is your head doing, Won?”
“My head is doing alwight, though the nuwse said I would pwonounce all my “awes” as Ws now.” Won responded, bouncing around.
“Wow, just when I thought that Won couldn’t get any dumber.” Hatty said, giving Cheese-Cracker a worried look. She gulped.
“So er…what’s next?” Hatty asked her.
“Potions.” Cheese-Cracker answered before breaking down and jumping into Hatty’s arms, crying.
“Oh, Hatty, I can’t believe we have to deal with a Won who’s twice as annoying as he was before!” she said, tears a-flowin’ “I mean, he was annoying before, but now he’s gonna be ‘tawking wike dis’! Oh dear sweet Merlin’s left testicle, somebody save us!”
Hatty patted her on the back and then looked at her.
“Hey. Cheese-Cracker?”
“Yeah?” she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” Hatty said.
“I know.” she said half-heartedly.
“No. I said it’s not your fault.” Hatty said again.
“I know.” Cheese-Cracker repeated, more sternly.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I said I know.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Cheese-Cracker gave him a really weird look.
“What are you doing?” she asked him. He didn’t respond.
“It’s not your fault.” he said.
Cheese-Cracker backed away slowly.
“It’s not your fault.” Hatty said again.
Cheese-Cracker punched Hatty in the face and ran.
 “Why’d you hit Hatty, Cheese-Cwackuh?” Won asked.
She didn’t answer him, and once more, Won…picked his nose.
He dragged out a long line of mucus and wiped it on Hatty’s shoulder.
Hatty made a mental note to consult the kid who told him that if he recited bits from Good Will Hunting to get a million pounds and break an alarm clock over his head.

CHAPTER 8
NOTIONS FOR POTIONS

After a nearly hour long apology from Cheese-Cracker, alarms everywhere in the Piffnpour common room began to go off.
“Hey, potions!” said Cheese-Cracker happily.
“Potions make me gassy.” said Won in response.
“You sit next to him.” Cheese-Cracker said in Hatty’s ear.
“I’m not sittin’ next to the fart-tard.” Hatty said, glancing over at Won.
“I’ll sit in the middle!” Won suggested.
Knowing that Won wouldn’t take no for an answer, Cheese-Cracker and Hatty exchanged worried glances, and slumped down the staircase that takes an unbearably long time to climb. The staircases kept changing, and Hatty was starting to get pissed off.
Won picked his…oh nevermind.

**********
Hatty, Won and Cheese-Cracker just barely got to class in time.
“Yay, we made it!” squealed Cheese-Cracker with glee “Learning!”
“Ehhh.” said Hatty and Won simultaneously.
At the front of the potions classroom stood a man with a jerry curl hairdo dripping with container. The students held their noses.
“I am professor Severely Snaped. Obey me.” his eyes darted across the room, and he continued.
“Now you lice infested little vermin, let’s get down to business.”
“Professor, will we be making a potion?” asked Burrito Bitsalami.
Professor Snaped put his index fingers on his cheeks and said in a mocking tone “Oh gee, I wonder if we’ll be making potions in potions class!” and then “Detention you little half wit!”
Burrito burst out into tears.
“Now, this potion we will be making today is called…” Snaped began.
Cheese-Cracker bounced on her seat in anticipation.
“Coffee.” Snaped finished.
“COFFEE, OH BOY! YEAH!” bellowed Cheese-Cracker, pummeling the table with her tiny fists. Snaped stared at her with his mouth open.
“Ten…ten points from Piffnpour…” Snaped stammered.
“Nice going, jerk ass.” said Semen O’Flaherty, a fellow Piffnpour.
“Be quiet you insignificant git.” snapped a boy from across the room. This boy had blonde hair and green eyes. His name was Flakey Sextoy.
“Fifty points to Splatterin!” hollered Snaped with a grin.
Flaky Sextoy’s friends, Grab-n-Pile guffawed and gave each other high fives as Flaky sat looking triumphant.
“Anyways. Coffee. It’s a magical little drink designed to give you an extra boost of stamina. Many believe it to be a potion concocted by the Gods. Many people believe those people to be morons.” droned Snaped “Now then. On with the potion.”
Snaped reached inside his desk and pulled out a frog. He held it above his head for the class to see. Well, the Splatteriffians anyway.
“Now, how we make coffee is first, take out your scalpels…”
The class did as instructed and frogs appeared in front of the students more instantly than that nasty microwavable Uncle Ben rice in a bag.
“And cut open the whole bottom of the frog. Then I want you to reach in and get a firm hold on those slimy intestines and grind them into a fine powder within the palm of your hand.”
A lot of the students said “gross”, “yuck” or “I’m gonna hurl”.
“Next, reach in through the anus and pull out the little brain through it. Then reach in through the mouth and remove the lungs. Then, wrap the tongue around the liver, and stretch the tongue all the way to the frog’s butt, and pull the tongue in through the pooper and out of the hole where you slit the frog open. Then take a hammer and some lotion and…”
At this point, half of the class had already ran out. The other half were in the midst of vomiting. Won expanded his cheeks and followed suit.
“Stop that.” Hatty said to Won, hitting him in the back of his head.
The boy next to Hatty, Headric Hickory muttered “glub” while spraying the Hogfarts cafeteria breakfast across the room. It splattered onto Professor Snaped’s head. Snaped looked horrified.
“No! My jerry curl! I’m melting!” he shrieked in agony, turning into a puddle of green sludge on the floor. Hatty didn’t think much of it.
He figured Argyle Filth would just mop it later.
“How can this be? The teacher is a puddle of slime! How will we ever be able to learn?!” Cheese-Cracker cried her head in her hands.
Semen O’Flaherty tossed a chunk of Headric Hickory’s pancake at her.
Hatty was glad he didn’t eat breakfast that morning. He wasn’t quite sure that he would have wanted to eat a meal consisting of ‘rat meal’ and tea. The bell rang, the students quit puking and as Professor Snaped’s head slowly turned into lime green gunk, he uttered his final words: “Be sure to drink…your rich…chocolaty…Ovaltine…!"

**********
“This whole day is awful. I haven’t learned a thing.” Cheese-Cracker complained. Hatty rolled his eyes, though he secretly agreed.
“Well at least we get to eat next, right?” Hatty said optimistically “So are you eating the cafeteria food or conjuring some?”
“I’m eatin’ the cafetewia food. I hewd it’s toad stwoganoff.” Won said.
Toad stroganoff was one thing Hatty could go without.
“That’s gross, Won.” Cheese-Cracker said “I however, have taken the liberation of making all three of us lunches.”
Hatty stared blankly at her.
“I’ve known you a day.” he said.
Cheese-Cracker shrugged and said “Yeah, well no syrup off my waffles. I just conjure it and comes straight to me via owl mail.”
“And who makes this food, Cheesey?” asked Hatty, lookin’ smug.
“I dunno. Trolls?” Cheese-Cracker guessed with another shrug.
“Trolls make my food? No thanks, I’d rather eat the toad.” Hatty said.
“But I ordered nice ripe apples! And hearty lentil soup! And whole wheat toast!” Cheese-Cracker said sadly, making a puppy dog face.
“Yeah, I’m definitely eating the toad.” Hatty replied with a smirk.
Cheese-Cracker smacked Hatty in the back of the head. He stumbled forward and managed to conveniently trip right into the cafeteria.
“Why awe all these chaptuhs fow pages long?” Won asked, sticking an entire finger into his nostril.
“I don’t know.” Cheese-Cracker answered “Hey author, could you make this one five pages just to keep this thing…”
She indicated to Won.
“…quiet?”
The author thought about it and said “Okay. I grant thee five pages.”

Five.

CHAPTER 9
TASTES LIKE BEETS

“Ah, cafeteria food.” said Hatty as they entered the Grand Cafeteria “Pre packaged crap. Greasy, slimy and sometimes made out of dog.”
“Oh, I guess I was wong. They don’t have toad stwoganoff today. It’s even bettuh, they’ve got monkey bwains!”
“That’s more brain than he’s got.” Hatty mumbled to Cheese-Cracker.
She snerked and gave Hatty a high five.
There was an awful lot of lunch trading going around since nobody but Won dared eat the monkey bwain…I mean brain.
God damn it, now Won’s got me doing it too.
Hatty traded his apple, thermos of soup and toast away for a taco and a drink called Beet Blast. He was thirsty, so he took a swig.
“Yecch. Tastes like beets.” he said, looking at the drink in disgust.
“That’s what you get. I, on the other hand, am quite enjoying this nutritious lunch jam packed with the vitamins and minerals I need.” said Cheese-Cracker, chomping down on her rock hard toast.
She forced a toothy smile. Hatty looked at her.
“Really?” Hatty asked her, his breath smelling like old broccoli.
“No, not really.” she said with a sigh, tossing the toast behind her. It hit poor Melvin Flatbottom in the back of the head, which sent him toppling over the table and landing face first into Fred Doublecups’ genital region.
“I like my shoes.” said Won, staring proudly at his velcro encased feet.
Hatty reached over and flicked Won on his eyeball and after yelling “YOWCH!!”, he slammed his face straight into his plate of primate.
Three boys; Rustin Flinch-Fletcherly, Fintan Dingus and Herman Punyturd, all Huffinpuffins, sat at Hatty’s table.
“This stuff taste horrible!” said Rustin Flinch-Fletcherly, spitting out a pile of brownish pink gunk on his plate “What is this stuff anyways?”
“Monkey brains.” Hatty told him with a shrug.
“What?! Lunchlady Bertha said it was ‘mystery meat’!” Rustin shouted.
Hatty pointed over Rustin’s shoulder. Rustin wheeled around and saw Lunchlady Bertha chuckling at him with a large green-toothed grin.
“Oh man. I’m gonna be sick.” Rustin said, cheeks beginning to expand “Oh yeah! Gonna ralph! Gonna chuck my crackers!”
“What?” Cheese-Cracker said, lifting her head from her apple.
“Nothin’.” Hatty said as Rustin spewed vomit onto Fintan’s new shoes.
“Ew. Let’s move to a different table.” Cheese-Cracker said, disgusted.
In the vomiting commotion, Rustin smacked his lunch tray against Won’s head. Won grunted as earwax came oozing out of his ears.
Hatty scooted to the side a bit as Cheese-Cracker cautiously dabbed at Won’s big red ears with a napkin. The smell was unbearable; Hatty was pretty sure that he would be the next one to barf.
“Wow, that willy huwt.” Won said cheerily “Pleath don’t do it again.”
“Ah, bollocks!” Hatty shrieked “Now the retard’s got a lisp!”
“Merlin’s pants!” said Cheese-Cracker, slapping her forehead so hard that she passed out on the floor. Hatty luckily knew just the thing that would revive her.
“We’re gonna miss our next class if you keep bein’ knocked out.”
Cheese-Cracker jumped to her feet. Hatty looked real smug until a booger came leaking out of his right nostril. Cheese-Cracker cringed.
“Hey Cheeth-Cwackuh, ithn’t ow necth clath taught by pwofetthuh Thquiwwuh?” Won said, apparently washing his hands in his food.
“Huh?” Hatty and Cheese-Cracker said in unison.
“HEY, OWL MAIL!” Won shrieked.
Hatty farted straight into Cheese-Cracker’s whole wheat toast when he saw a barrage of owls flying in through the ceiling.
“OH, SHIIIIIT! THEY’RE GONNA POOP ON US!! SOMEBODY GET ME AND UMBRELLA!!” Hatty hollered ecstatically, running in circles.
“That’s Owl mail, Hatty. They deliver our mail, not crap on us.” Cheese-Cracker explained.
“Well…maybe Hafassed.” she added, glancing at Hafassed, who was eating at the staff table. He saw her, smiled and waved, just before a hunk of globby bird dookie landed in his beard. He’d discover it later and probably figure it was frosting and eat it.
“Owl mail? That’s stupid. If we’re magic, why can’t we just teleport it to the location we want it to go?” Hatty asked.
“It’s really stupid.” Cheese-Cracker agreed “But that’s the way you-know-who who wrote the you-know-what books has it, so I guess that’s just the way we have it too. We got shafted.”
The owls swooped down to deliver mail to the students. Cheese-Cracker got a letter from her parents and Won got the new issue of Oprah magazine. Hatty wondered why Won would be able to find any use for Oprah magazine as Won bellowed “COOL!”
He heard a fart noise come from somewhere near him. He swiveled his head wildly, but couldn’t find what was passin’ gas.
He blinked and turned towards Won, only to find an owl tushie crammed right in his face. He received a hot wet one that smelled like old rotten broccoli straight to the eyes. His eyes watered.
“Hi, Earwig.” he sputtered.
He turned to Won and said “How could something so small emit something so horrifying?”
Won was engrossed in Oprah, so he just shrugged.
His owl, Earwig, farted again, her…okay, I’m going to skip these next few obnoxiously vulgar sentences. This is just wrong, even for this book. All I’m going to say is that Earwig had to poop the mail out and it was really quite a large parcel. Hatty imagined it would have burned the holy hell out of her arse. He winced and looked away.
The parcel plopped in his outstretched hands with a soggy splat.
He slammed it down on the table and began to unwrap it.
“HOLY CRAP, ITH A BANANA!” Won screeched at Hatty.
Hatty gave him the finger.
“WAIT I KNOW WHAT THAT ITH! ITH A BIMBUTH THOOTHOUTHENTH!” Won hollered so that everyone in the room turned their heads to see what Won was yelling about.
“Wow, you received a Bimbus Thoothouthenth!” shouted Semen O’Flaherty “That’s the fastest racing broom on the planet! No wait, in the galaxy! No wait, in the universe! No wait…”
His sentence was cut short as a girl named Decka DeHawls kicked him in both of his shins. Hatty grinned at her and felt a woody jostling around in his trousers. More and more people began to crowd around him to see his new broomstick.
A boy named Macaulay was so shocked he clapped his hands on his cheeks, yelped “Hurrah!” and fell to the floor, hitting his head on the table as he went. Decka DeHawls giggled and smiled innocently.
“Watch out, she’s a succubus.” Cheese-Cracker mumbled into Hatty’s ear. Hatty continued to grin as he caressed his massive broomstick.
Hey, what were you thinkin’, ya donk?
You sweaty palmed perverts! I meant that he was massaging his oversized package! Wait! I didn’t mean it that way! Quick, stop the thinking, I want to get off! NO, NOT IN THAT WAY!! STOP BEING SICK!
All of a sudden, Hatty was back in the real world again.
“Wait, racing broom?” Hatty asked Semen O’Flaherty.
“Actually, they’re mainly used for playing Quitwit.” a tall boy with a real hard to understand cockney accent said “I’m Olives Morningwood, captain of the Piffnpour Quitwit team. I heard you got a C for trying in Madam Hoochy’s class. That’s one of the best scores yet. Wanna join our team?”
“Okay!” Hatty blurted stupidly.
Won slammed his head against the table and Cheese-Cracker put her head in her hands. Everyone else decided they didn't really care.

CHAPTER 10
SACKED!

Hatty rejoined Won and Cheese-Cracker in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professor, who was wearing an oversized sombrero, stood in front of the class, sweating and occasionally sputtering something about three little kittens that lost their mittens, or something.
“R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r” he began “R-r-r-r-right so.”
Hatty leaned forward and put his head on top of his desk.
“C-c-c-c-c-c…”
Cheese-Cracker began sobbing as the professor began to imitate a series of water buffalo grunts. Won tied his shoes. His velcro shoes.
“Class.” the professor continued “I am professor Sk-sk-squid-squirm-sk-sk-sk-Squirrel. Professor Squirrel.”
Hatty bonked his head repeatedly on his desk. Decka DeHawls burst into the room, out of breath.
“Sorry I’m late.” she said, ploppin’ her big butt next to Hatty.
Hatty heard his pants rustling around beneath him and then heard something slam against the bottom of his desk. He clenched his teeth and crossed his eyes, right before yelling “YOWCH!!”
He gripped his “special place” and doubled over. Almost one page through the chapter and Professor Squirrel has only been able to say one sentence. Tut tut.
“ALRIGHT! EVERYONE! SIT DOWN!” Cheese-Cracker screamed at the top of her lungs, veins bursting out of her neck, her tiny fists flailing around in the air “LET’S HEAR WHAT PROFESSOR SQUIRREL HAS TO SAY! I WANNA LEARN!!”
Everyone stared at her in shock. She emitted a little cough and a weak “thanks.” Hatty was beginning to like that girl.
Professor Squirrel stuttered a few times, and for the sake of literature and everyone’s sanity, I will skip his stuttering and get on with the rest of the chapter.
“Right. Well, as you all know by know, I am professor Squirrel.” he said, adjusting his sombrero nervously “Now, we are going to be studying Burlaps. I have brought a few with me from the vast mountain ranges of China. Burlaps are little slug-like creatures that feast on Human organs.”
“Heh…stupid human organs. They’re so stupid.” giggled Flakey Sextoy, thrusting his fist into his oversized pal’s gut.
“Yes…” said Professor Squirrel irritably, adjusting his sombrero and wiping a bit of sweat from his unibrow “Anywho, I’m going to teach you all about different defensive and offensive spells. I will teach you how to perform clean defensive spells such as Bajazafrical, which will make your opponent drop his wand and perform jazz hands while tap dancin’ to a cheery tune.”
A hand shot straight in the air.
“No, I will not teach you the prick enlarging incantation.”
The hand dropped, but after some thought, the student flailed it in the air frantically. Professor Squirrel sighed.
“Or how to make someone’s bowels explode.”
The hand slowly lowered with a certain sadness, as taps spewed from Won’s wand, which he had obviously used to dig inside his nose with.
As much as Cheese-Cracker loved seeing Won “explore the unknown depths of the cave”, she – with some caution, snapped the wand in half over her knee.
“I thaw yoh pantieth Cheeth-Cwackuh.” Won said, neglecting the fact that his wand had just been broken in half “They wuh pink.”
Cheese-Cracker turned red. Hatty decided just for the hell of it, to toss his quill at Won. The tip of the quill jabbed Won and stuck in his head.
Won didn’t seem to notice. Hatty shrugged and turned forward.
Clearing his throat, Professor Squirrel announced his first lesson.
“First, I will teach you ‘Buttnuggets’, more commonly known as the Crusty Clusters spell. Casting Buttnuggets on someone will cause the victim to spray fecal matter on themselves and then have it form into a thick crusty layer, hence the term ‘Crusty Clusters’. I am going to demonstrate.” Professor Squirrel pointed his wand and shouted “Buttnuggets!”
Poor Melvin Flatbottom jolted straight in his seat, looking surprised. The class watched in anticipation. Melvin began to squirm and then he made a loud farting noise. Hatty squeezed his nose to block out the smell. There was a sort of wet squishy sound and then a faint whimper via Melvin. He began to cry and ran out of the room the best he could, waddling as poop sloshed out of his trousers.
 “Did anyone write that down?” Professor Squirrel asked pleasantly.
The class stared at the door from which Melvin had exited in shock.
Several of the students fidgeted with their quills, looking anxious.
“Buttcrusties is a weighted down version of Arsetrumpet, which just literally, makes the target crap their pants.”
The whole class was staring down at their desks, except for Flakey Sextoy and his chums. Hatty glanced over in time to see Flakey guffawing with Grab-N-Pile, who was being repeatedly punched in the stomach. Hatty caught a little bit of what was being said – “…with his lad in his hand!” – and he decided to stop listening then and there.
Professor Squirrel was getting mad. He began to turn a deep shade of scarlet, sort of like Won’s ears and his veins began to bulge.
“I W-W-WANT TO TEACH THIS C-C-CLASS AND DADGUMMIT, I’M GOING TO T-T-TEACH IT!! 10 P-P-POINTS FROM SPLATTERIN!!” he shrieked.
“Whoa, harsh.” Flakey said sarcastically, nudging his pals in their guts.
“FINE, YOU DO THE L-L-LESSON THAN! I’M NOT T-T-TEACHING YOU LITTLE PRICKS ANYMORE! I’M SACKING MYSELF!” Squirrel hollered “I’M SACKED!”
“Can you do that?” asked Hatty.
Ignoring Hatty’s question, Professor Squirrel yelped “THE N-N-NEXT LESSON IS ON ZAPOGLURPS!! DO IT!”
Hatty could see Professor Squirrel getting more and more wrinkles by the second. In the commotion, Won’s quill rolled off his desk.
“Ooops!” said Won stupidly.
Steam began to shoot out of Squirrel’s ears as his eyes crossed. He took a deep breath, and shouted “AAAAAAAAAGH!” just before taking a running dive out of the window. Flakey nearly fell out of his chair.
He was holding his sides but still somehow managing to slam his bony fist into his chums. Deciding that Flakey Sextoy was a worthless ass, Hatty turned back to Cheese-Cracker and Won.
“What are Zapoglurps?” he asked them. Won shrugged.
Cheese-Cracker tugged out her wand from her wool brogan. Hatty didn’t even notice that she was wearing wool brogans before.
She pointed her wand at her desk and muttered “Diddledee”.
A miniature image of Ricky Gervais appeared. Mini-Ricky instantly jammed his pinky finger in his ear and began to dig around.
“Zapoglurps.” Cheese-Cracker said.
“Zapoglurps.” Mini-Ricky repeated “A little elf like creature that radiates powerful dark magic. Many dark wizards eat their testicles to absorb their evil energy. I said testicles!”
Mini-Ricky clapped his hands together and let out a high pitched squeal of laughter. Hatty jabbed him in the stomach with his wand.
He doubled over and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
Another four page chapter. God damn it…

CHAPTER 11
DON’T TOUCH ME THERE

Strutting down the corridor, Hatty mused…hey, that’s the fourth time someone has mused in this book! What’s going on here?! There’s too much musing going on, that’s what!
“I really don’t like that Flakey Sextoy.” said Hatty to Won.
“Wanna thniff my booguhth?” Won asked, shoving his mucus encrusted finger at Hatty, who ducked behind Cheese-Cracker.
“Come on you guys, quit messing around, we have to get to Charms.” Cheese-Cracker said, shoving Won out of the way.
“Charms? What the hell is that?” Hatty asked rudely.
“That’s the class where we go to learn how to cast spells” Cheese-Cracker explained “And stuff.”
“YEAH! CHAWMTH!” Won hollered happily. His words of knowledge bounced from wall to wall so loudly that several students fled the scene, afraid of dark magic.
“I like toatht. Ith nummy in my tummy.” he finished.
And just because I can, here’s this:

”Hey, I’m paper sack kid. My head holds all your supplies an’ shit. The Spurting Hat is my cousin. He thinks I’m a real nice guy.”

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!” shouted Cheese-Cracker.
“Oh, that’s just the author. He does that kind of stuff a lot.” Hatty replied, giving me the finger. Hatty’s fingers slowly disintegrated.
“AHWOOCH!! GIVE ‘EM BACK!” shouted Hatty, blood spewing from his messy distorted lump of a hand.
The author decided to give Hatty back his fingers, but secretly erased his anus. That oughtta teach the little bastard.
After Hatty’s fingers had grown back, he used them to scratch his hindquarters.
“Is something wrong?” asked Cheese-Cracker.
“I’m fine. My butt feels a bit weird though.” Hatty responded.
Since the school is humongoid, we’ll just skip the next six pages that they’d spend walking to the room, and since I haven’t used one of these for a while…

**********
“Good afternoon, class!” squeaked Professor Nitwit.
He was a short, ridiculously unattractive man who always made sure to carry a nice sock full of nickels to bludgeon his students with.
“Good afternoon, Professor Nitwit!” screeched the class.
Hatty plugged his ears and said “Ow! Shit!”
Professor Nitwit cleared his throat, adjusted his junk and explained “Today, I shall be teaching you all how to make an object Smevitate. The charm’s name is an abbreviation of ‘smelly levitating’. How it got that name is from the foul stench emitted for some reason the author is too lazy to think of, while the targeted object levitates. Now, the basic wand motion for this spell is swish and flick.”
Professor Nitwit demonstrated with his wand.
“Give it a try, class.” he encouraged.
The class stared at him.
“SWISH AN’ FLICK, DAMN IT!” he shouted, squinting so hard that his neatly combed hair fell in front of his face.
The students lazily swished and flicked. Er…damn it.
“Fair enough.” Nitwit shrugged “Practice the spell on these.”
He waved his hand and feathers appeared before every student.
“Now the incantation.”
He shoved his wand towards a book on his desk and squealed
“FLY, YOU FILTHY FUCKIN’ REGURGITATED RECTAL VOMIT!”
“FLY, YOU FILTHY FUCKIN’ REGURGITATED RECTAL VOMIT” repeated the class. Nothing happened.
“Oh man, I love it when that happens. Stupid first years!”
Professor Nitwit roared with laughter, a tear rolling partway down his cheek, until it careened off a wrinkle.
Hatty flipped him off. Won decided to follow suit as always.
“Stop that.” Hatty muttered, giving Won a wet willie, then quickly yanking his finger back, realizing where he had just crammed it.
“Alright, the real charm is…” said Nitwit “BEANS, BEANS, THE MUSICAL FRUIT, THE MORE YOU EAT, THE MORE YOU TOOT, THE MORE YOU TOOT, THE WETTER YOUR CHUTE, BEANS, BEANS, THE MUSICAL FRUIT!”
The class looked around skeptically.
“BEANS, BEANS, THE MUSICAL FRUIT, THE MORE YOU EAT, THE MORE YOU TOOT, THE MORE YOU TOOT, THE WETTER YOUR CHUTE, BEANS, BEANS, THE MUSICAL FRUIT!” shouted the class, swinging their wands insanely.
Headrick Hickory got a wand jammed in his nose.
Professor Nitwit doubled over and began to kick his little feet in the air. Hatty and Cheese-Cracker looked at each other.
After a few minutes of agitated sighs from the students and high pitched snorts of laughter from professor Nitwit, he was able to balance on his feet again. His face was drenched in tears.
“Alright, the real spell is Winklewinnit Smeviosa!” Nitwit giggled before a rock crashed straight into his forehead, possibly killing him.
Hey, you-know-who who wrote the you-know-what books kills off characters nobody gives a flying fuck about all the time, why can’t I?
“Hey, it actually worked!” belched Semen O’Flaherty, his feather flying in the air with such speed, it crashed through the ceiling into the water pipeline above.
“Oooops!” Hatty yelped, quickly shoving the small pile of stones he had gathered off of his desk.

**********
It was Colon Creepy’s lucky day. He walked into the stall with a smile on his face. He pulled down his trousers and right as he began to spread his buttocks apart with his hands, the feather zipped in his ass with such force that it ripped straight through the top of his skull, splattering his brain meats all over the student in the stall next to him.
“Arrrgh! My groin!” shrieked Colon, grabbing his genitals in a vice grip.
I like the word vice as you can tell. That’s the fourth time I’ve used it.
What was left of poor Colon dragged himself over underneath the space between stalls and muttered “Help me!”
The surprised, noggin-covered kid in the next stall’s jaw dropped.
“Stranger danger! STRANGER DANGER!” he shouted, and with this, he burst out of the stall, pants at his ankles.
Maybe I’ll do another filler chapter, kinda like those chapters where kids fly around on brooms for some reason. I’ll call it…

CHAPTER 12
THAT CHAPTER WHERE KIDS FLY AROUND ON BROOMS
FOR SOME REASON

Hatty was awoken with a good solid punch to the shoulder.
“Ow! Shit!” he said, rubbing what was already becoming a bruised lump. He jolted out of bed and slapped his morning wood into the waistband of his pajama pants. Yeah, it’s shallow. Yeah, you like that.
And speaking of morning wood…
“We’ve got a game today, Hatty.” said Olives Morningwood, his brow so furrowed that his bushy eyebrows nearly covered his eyes completely and taking the term ‘large forehead’ to a new dimension.
“Huh?” Hatty said stupidly, fumbling with his glasses before lazily smearing them upon his face.
“You heard me. Get on these robes – “ Olives said, while tossing Hatty a set of Quitwit robes, which consisted of a cloak, some leg and arm guards, and a child’s turquoise skateboard helmet “ – and head out to the Quitwit pitch.”
Hatty grumbled, scratched his yarbles and did a sort of “yeah, yeah” kind of motion with his hand. All the talking had awoken Won.
“Good morning, world!” Won shouted, stretching and spitting through his teeth insanely.
Hatty tried not to be noticed by doing a kind of lumberjack on top of his bed. This worked surprisingly well, as Won didn’t notice him at all.

**********
Once upon the Quidditch pitch, with a stadium full of yelling, screaming eleven year olds, Hatty delved deep within the depths of his left nostril. Usually this was Won’s unique activity, but Hatty really had some crusty ones lodged in there that were bothering him.
When he noticed Cheese-Cracker and Won approaching however, he quickly dragged out a long wet one and tried to casually play it off as if he were just scratching an itch, yet the long string of mucus stretched from his nose to his hip proved otherwise.
“Good luck today, Hatty.” Cheese-Cracker said with a smile.
This sort of brightened Hatty’s spirit, and he gave her a sort of lopsided grin, which just looked a little goofy. Cheese-Cracker’s smile drooped slowly.
“You’ll need it.” she added with a look of disgust.
“Nith bwoom.” Won fumbled, sticking his index fingers nearly all the way in both ears before exclaiming “Cool beanth! I can fee’ my finguth in my head!”
Hatty tried to ignore this the best he could, so he grabbed his broom and made towards the center of the field.
Cheese-Cracker noticed something on Hatty’s broom and she squealed with glee at the thought of learning something new. Hatty turned around, startled.
“That’s an Adorabahevenhoobendurgen!” Cheese-Cracker said, pointing at a tiny little insect that was leaning upon Hatty’s broom. It was smoking a cigar and wore an oversized bowler hat.
Hatty glanced over at it, his eyelids drooped uncaringly.
“Yeah.” he said, as he began to walk away from her and Won again.
“An Adorabahevenhoobendurgen, Hatty!” Cheese-Cracker shrieked.
“YEAH.” Hatty hollered at her over his shoulder.
“ADORABAHEVENHOOBENDURGEN!” Cheese-Cracker screeched as loudly as her little lungs would permit.
“YEAH!” Hatty bellowed, his voice at the highest decibel imaginable at this point. Everyone in the stadium plugged their ears, except for professor Shaped, whose arms hadn’t reached his ears in time.
The sound was so loud that it blew his greasy hair straight towards the back of his head, yet it was so oily that it just sort of spiked in midair.
“Nice ‘do, professor.” hollered Pee Hardon from across the stadium, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Severely Shaped’s eyes bulged and remained unfocused.
“Ten points from Piffnpour.” he spewed from immovably clenched teeth. The spit began to run down his chin, yet he was too paralyzed at the moment to wipe it away.
Madam Hoochy jogged into the center of the field and blew her whistle. Everyone in the stadium instantly became silent, with the exception of a loud burp from Hafassed.
“S’ry.” he said, patting his stomach with a hearty grunt “C’ntinue yer beeswax.”
Madam Hoochy normally would have kicked some ass, but she didn’t feel like jogging all the way to the top row.
“Let the game begin.” she said dully, as the players whizzed straight overhead “Watch the hair, you pricks!”
Hatty zoomed straight towards the sky, where he flailed his head around looking for the Retch. After a few minutes of swearing from the bug whose name I can’t pronounce (whom Hatty flicked off to his doom), Hatty spotted the Retch and whizzed straight towards it.
As he rode past the stands, people began to throw their half eaten hot dogs at him. One got stuck in his ear, but he didn’t have time to tug it out, for it would have thrown off his whole game.
As he sped straight after the Retch, his broom got a little too fast and he felt the steel golden ball slam right into his groin.
His hands immediately flew towards his crotch; not to hold his now swollen and achy testicles, but to try and grab the Retch.
It was a tricky little bugger however, and slipped in between his knuckles every time he grasped it.
He was heading straight for the stands, and it was already too late to turn around, so like any idiot would do, he thrust his hands out.
He then saw Decka DeHawls in one of the rows smiling and waving cheerfully at him. His pants got very tight and he felt his penis thunk against the steel ball. It propelled right into his outstretched hand.
He looked at it with disbelief, and let out a proud yelp of “Hooray!” before crashing right into the stands and breaking just about every fucking bone in his fucking body.

Why the hell is every chapter four pages long?

SPACE FOR RENT
PLEASE BUY IT; I’M A DESPERATE DESPERATE MAN.
To order space, please go fuck yourself and have a nice day.

CHAPTER 13
HAGGARDY HOLIDAYS!

Due to the author being a lazy prick and taking the easy way out in able to skip several months of the same boring thing, Hatty found himself in the hospital wing, which coincidentally, was shaped like a piece of toast. As you can tell, this is where I start to put actual effort into this pile of crud, and hopefully I can make the chapters more than four pages long.
“Haggardy holidays!” hollered Jumbledoor, spraying spit through his teeth straight upon Hatty’s glasses.
Hatty made a sort of “ugh” noise and blinked.
“Crispy Christmas! Snappy Snonnukah! Kwazy Kwanzaa!” Jumbledoor screamed once again, clapping his hands maniacally, hopping on his feet, left to right.
Hatty slumped his head back upon his pillow, wishing that he were still knocked out. He rolled over a bit, to find Cheese-Cracker and a very sweaty Won beaming at him. He let out a startled burp and fell out of his hospital bed.
“Why am I in here? What time is it? Did I miss lunch?” he sputtered.
“Well, you’re in here because you were in a coma. It’s currently Mwensday, the numteenth of Nemtember.” Cheese Cracker explained.
“Huh?!” Hatty shouted “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh yes, you’re used to being raised a Snuggle.” Cheese-Cracker said adding a “Duh!”
“You probably know it as Wednesday, the nineteenth of December.” Cheese-Cracker explained. She then giggled and gave Hatty a really rather rough jab in the shoulder “Gotcha!”
“Ow! Shit!” Hatty said, as he winced and clutched at his now extremely bruised shoulder.

Alright. Jesus, it’s been almost three fuckin’ months since the last time I wrote a word of this book. Fuckin’ writer’s block.
It’s been a while, so let’s see what I can write now…

“Hurrah! Hurrah for toast!” shouted lil’ Adolfo Fiddlywinks, leaping in the air for joy, high-fiving a piece of cold toast, which landed on the floor with a sad little splat.

That’s it? That is all I can think of?! THAT?!
Alright, let’s try this again, shall we?