
If Cats Can Eat Spiders, Anything is Possible
Mood; Cheerful.
Harry [planted in front of a forty-two inch television screen]: This show is boring.
Ginny [peeking out from the bedroom door]: It’s a commercial, Potter, not a television show. Get a life, weirdo.
Harry: You can’t call me that!
Ginny [pretending to gag]: Says who, Potter?
Harry [furious]: I – I – we’re married! We have six children!
Ginny [rolling her eyes]: Ten, actually.
Harry [surprised]: Really? Who was the last?
Ginny: LilyLunaJamesSiriusAlbusSeverusNevilleIII Potter.
Harry [even more surprised]: Wow! That’s a long name. Who chose it?
Ginny: You, you duffer.
Harry: You can’t call me that!
Ginny: Well, guess what, Potter? I’ve just decided I can. Besides, I’m leaving you and this house, anyway. *hitches an expensive bag over her shoulder*
Harry [ -jawdrop- ]: WHAT? You have GOT to be kidding me, Weasley! You can’t just walk out on me! Besides, who's going to feed HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa? *points to a very fat cat sitting on top of the TV set, who is chewing a quill, and has a ribbon reading "HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa" round his neck*
Ginny: Guess you'll have to feed HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa
and HarryPotterIIIWhoRocksMySocksEvenMore by yourself from now on, Potter. [She glances at the corner of the lounge, where a tall lamp stands, a tag reading "HarryPotterIIIWhoRocksMySocksEvenMore" attached to it.]
Harry: No way, huzzayy! Like I said, Weasley, you can’t just walk out on me!
Ginny: Well, I'm about to do just that, aren’t I?
Harry: But – but – but your mother’s going to beat me up if you go back to her! And HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa likes to bite me when you're not around!
Ginny [rolling her eyes]: Don’t be stupid, Potter, I’m not going to go back to my mother. And HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa is only going to bite you when he's hungry - which he is every ten minutes.
Harry [relieved]: Oh good, that means I don't have to worry about being bitten too often, then. Where are you going, anyway? –grabs remote and begins to surf happily through the channels-
Ginny: I’m running off with Dean Thomas, of course.
Harry [dropping the remote]: WHAT? You can’t! You can’t, Weasley, that makes him sound better than me! And everyone knows I’m the best, I’m the Boy Who Lived, I’m the Chosen One!
Ginny: Cut the crap, Potter. I have a Thomas to run off with.
Harry: Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!
[Enter Dean. He looks immaculately clean, and is wearing expensive, blue robes. His hair is a little tousled, but otherwise looks perfect. Harry glares at him.]
Harry: You’re running off with
that?
Ginny [nose in the air]: If a “that” is better than you, you can only imagine what you must be like, Potter.
Harry: You can’t do this to me, you can’t, YOU CAN’T! [turns to HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa ] WHY IS SHE DOING THIS TO ME? [turns to Dean] WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?
Dean: Err.... Because I’m pretty and I can?
Harry: NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU! [Grabs HarryPotterIIWhoRocksMySocksLykWhoa and begins to shake the cat. The cat responds by biting him, really hard.] Owww! The cat killed me, the cat killed me!
Ginny [ignoring Harry]: Come along now, kids. Daddy Dean and I are going to buy y’all nice butterbeers. [Nine red-haired and one black-haired kids immediately began to follow her towards Dean.]
Harry: Nuuuuuuuuuu! *grabs at a kid* You! You don’t want to leave, do you? You want to watch the shampoo show with me, don’t you? Don’t you?
Little boy: It’s a commercial, ex daddy Potter, not a TV show.
Harry: Who cares what it is? I’m the boy who lived! I! I! I! –begins to chant “I, I, I” in a loud voice–
Little boy: Cut it out, Potter, you’re hurting my ears!
Dean [smirking and looking extremely smexy]: Let’s go, lovelies. Daddy Dean is going to buy you all nice, warm butterbeers. We all love Daddy Dean, don’t we now?
Kids, in one voice: Yes, we dooooo!
Harry: Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Come back, come back, come back! –begins to run around the room in circles, while pulling at his hair-
[Dean and Ginny walk out of the door. The one black-haired and nine red-haired children follow them as Harry continues to run about. At the door, the black-haired boy pauses.]
Harry [stops running, and hopefully]: You’re staying?
Kid [shaking his head, no]: Nope.
Harry: Then?
Kid: Your wig just fell off.
{The End}