Married. Go away.
Ultra Violence and Beethoven (Arveene & Misk Remix) | 5:00 | Baby Monster | redthreat.wordpress.com | Electronic
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Now imagine a music, dear readers, heavy with cellos at a rapid staccato. Cellos held between thighs in a dark room, the little room of Harry's chest as he walks with his teammates through the opening gate of his first test of cribbage. They are a ragtag group of champions, this bunch, and with Harry, the near perfect new god, they know they will dominate the day. Harry is a world laced with rivers of wizardly blood. He is ready.
He throws his leg over his steed and rips the air a new one as his teammates and he swim through the air testing out the space of the enormous field of play. The announcer squawks a fact that begins to drive the blood up in all of the chilled spectators: SLYTHERIN VERSUS GRYFFINDOR.
The autumn air puts up an icy fight, but the heat off of Harry alone warms the airy field of play. Whoosh and whoosh, the players take their positions. All of Harry's worries and hangups and personalities are left in the locker room. Here it is only the seeking machine that is Harry Potter. He is so ravenous, he can hardly keep from flying over and chomping the fingers off his opponents in a gesture of what's to come.
"Just blow the fucking whistle!" he growls. Soon, Professor Catface Meowmers is on the field and releases the balls. That Snitch brings the animal in Harry right up to his eyeball skins. That Snitch is Harry's desire, his fucking life. Harry knows what he has to do, and I'd warn God himself not to get in the way.
The big ball is hauled around the court by a beautiful girl from Gryffindor, who, without hesitation, crams a few points up Slytherin's bum with an effortless play. She will indeed be an asset for the few years that she will attend Gryffindor.
High five, claps, and the ball is back in play, Slytherin's favor. The crowd is half frozen and unresponsive. I guess they need blood splattered on their faces to keep them from yawning.
The most hideous boy in the world has the ball. He has a lumber pile in his mouth that he is calling teeth, and he is a mean SOB. He goes for some points, but is denied by our bloodthirsty Major Wood. Swarm, swarm, swoosh and swarm, the ball goes back and forth again. Beautifully powerful earnest warriors of Gryffindor handle the ball and release it as a team past the obviously inexperienced Slytherin goalie.
"Fuck yes!" Harry releases a primal yalp. Surprisingly again, the crowd seems sedated in the presence of such history making titans. The ball is again Slytherin's, but it is denied again by Major Wood. Joey Lumbermouth pounds a ball right at our goalie, and blamo! he's down on the sand, out cold. Harry positively ignites with rage, and Lumbermouth shows his namesake, as Hardcastle McCormick worries under her muffed ears.
The game proceeds and Slytherin decides that they will just burn a few points without the watchful eye of Wood.
"FUCK!" Harry snarls.
The game proceeds again. Harry could kill everyone for this. Woodpile and Ernie play rough and unclean on a beautiful Gryffindor player. Those boys are just fucking awful. They railroad her into the bleachers, and down she goes.
"FUUUUUUUCKIN' SHIT!" says Harry. He is all but Hulking out at this point. Everyone is outraged as Slytherin scores again.
The game is tied at chapter 20, and Harry is a pensive hungry falcon. Once the Snitch twinges into Harry's view, he is off in a meteoric streak of red, but just as HP zips after the Snitch, his broom starts freaking out! It's as if someone had a hold of the broom and was trying to shake HP off. Is he a bad Seeker, the crowd asks? No, I think his broom is cursed.
Harmony, through her ocular enhancing spell, spies Snake. "Snake! Oh my god, of course! She's putting a spell on Harry. Aggghh, something must be done!" Ronnie the Bear curses that Snake a good one as Harmony creeps away.
Harry continues to flop and roll in the air like a donut of sorts. Oh no, his big break may break him. He's barely hanging on. Mouthoil is overjoyed. Snake continues her magical broom shaking, and Harry yells fuckword after fuckword.
Harmony though, like a phantom, creeps up the darkened backside of Snake's bleachers. She is so worried that Harry will die. He's the only person who is nice to her. So she conjures up such a hotfoot spell Snake will have to remember until she is in the grave where no more hotfoot spells will ever tread.
Yes! Snake is so distracted, she wrecks all those around her. Queerman, Monster Mash, Zoomacroom -- they're all pissed at Snake for tossing about so wildly. Queerman is queerly intent on the game's proceedings.
Harry has gained control and is after that Snitch like a fucking rocket. ZIP. The Slytherin Seeker has been after it for a while, but I feel bad for him, because he is stupid and Harry is a rocketized animal who will stop at nothing. Yes, they crash each other as the Snitch leads them straight down into certain doom. Yes, they're going to crash! But Harry loves death. He says "Bring it on!" Harry is like a demon, long dead with nothing else to lose. The weak ass Slytherin turns away, but Harry pulls up just in time. He is standing on his broom like it's an extension of his body. He reaches out, almost having the Snitch, and falls!
Oh my god, is Harry going to vomit? Of course not. Like a leopard, Harry used his voracious mouth as his catcher. He's got the Snitch in his animal belly, and pop, it's out. They've won! One hundred thousand points for fucking Gryffindor! The crowd goes absolutely bazonkers. The champions in red and yellow are the victors.
Harry is spent. The crowd is destroying its throats calling Harry's name. Harry feels right with himself. He's down there, a new god who has found his calling. He holds up the Snitch and bellows, "I am a beautiful animal! I am a destroyer of worlds! I am Harry Fucking Potter!"
And dear reader, at last the world was quiet. |
Show: Men & Women | 
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