Today’s Music: Ned’s Atomic Dustbin – Intact
Comments from a previous post
Edward Hotspur | December 6, 2011 at 19:48 | Reply | Edit
I’m older, just so you know.
El Guapo | December 6, 2011 at 23:11 | Reply | Edit
but you have the soul of a young whippersnapper.
Edward Hotspur | December 6, 2011 at 23:24 | Reply | Edit
Yeah, well…. he wasn’t using it.
Which got me thinking. Which led to this. Thanks, Edward Hotspur. Glad to share the credit.
Or the blame.
This story has not been reviewed for quality.
The warm light glistened down upon Harry Cullen, a soft breeze wafting through his unkempt but stylish hair.
He sat on the shore of Lake Winsconereste, Bella Granger sitting by his side.
“Why are we out here in the middle of the night?”, asked Bella.
Harry looked at her in surprise, setting down the newspaper article he was reading about the recent strange behavior of Adam Lambert. “Night? But it’s so bright here”.
She sighed. “That’s the moonlight reflecting off your sparkles. Could you tone it down a bit?”
Harry pouted. He absent-mindedly stroked the fur of his cocker spaniel, Weasley Black.
Bella was upset. The last time Harry had come back from hunting, he had been a different person, and she was still getting used to the change…
“You know, Bella” began Harry. “Sometimes I just think that there aren’t enough words or emo styles to express the full angst-ness within me. Sure, I sparkle, sure, I wear clothes that make me look like a strung out heroin addict.” He stood up and began to pace. “But I don’t think it’s me.”
He turned to her, cupping her chin in his hand. “I think this soul inside me is-”
He was interrupted by the sound of bodies crashing through the trees. He turned to face them, tensing.
His face elongated, nose and jaw stretching out and joining in front of his face like the spout of a funnel.
He roared, a high pitched tinny sound (look folks, his whole vocal structure is pinched. Of course he sounds like that.) coming from the spout end.
Next to him, Weasley Black had turned to face the intruders, transforming from his mild mannered cocker spaniel appearance, to that of a ferocious, well muscled french poodle.
“Yip!” he snarled. “Yip! Yip!”
The intruders, making it through the treeline to the shore, regrouped. Harry recognized them by their wands. They all had the Plywood with Catgut core wands that were the signature tool of the Consumers Against WTF.
“We’ve found you” hurrahed (yes, it’s a word. Now.) their leader, Volde Gingrich. “And now we will put an end to this madness.”
“What gives you the right to judge us?” squeaked Harry. “All we want to do is finish our tale and be on a Burger King glass!”
“These stories are heavy handed”, shouted Fallwell righteously. “They are built on flimsy premises and are intellectual claptrap.” He circled Cullen and Weasley Black. “Sure, they are iconic touchstones now, and they have gotten millions of children to read. but where is the heart? Where are the depth and metaphor?”
His voice grew higher as he became more and more impassioned, until his pitch was almost as annoyingly squeaky as Harry’s.
“What happened to movies that meant something? Kramer vs. Kramer? Touch of Evil? Where are the novels of yesteryear – The Old Man And The Sea? The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy?”
“ENOUGH” trilled Harry Black, moving closer to Volde. Weasley Black scooted in, fierce french poodle teeth ripping at Gingrich’s Brooks Brothers clad leg.
Volde raised his wand, but was too late. Harry seized him under his arms, and, jamming his pointy snout into Gingrich’s neck, inhaled his soul.
Volde Gingrich flopped limply to the dirt.
Harry Cullen crouched over, still.
The members of Consumers Against WTF stood frozen, aghast. After a few minutes, they slowly shuffled forward, claiming their fallen leader and turning back to the trees.
Bella Granger came forward, the now cocker spaniel Weasley Black trailing quietly.
She rested her hand comfortingly on Edward’s shoulder. She knew what would happen next, but not the shape it would take.
In this amazing world, soul suckers would always have their core selves, but would take on the personality characteristics of those they had devoured.
Harry groaned, slowly rising to his feet, looking at his arms, the way his hands flexed,Bella cringed, preparing for the effects of his new soul.
“I…” creaked Harry Cullen, fingering a hole in his too tight, low riding black jeans. “I think I need to buy a suit.”
He walked off through the trees.
Bella Granger sat and cried.
You’re welcome.
Guapola 