Harry Potter packed his suitcase, stuffing coke after mountain dew and butcher knife after axe. He didn’t know about airport security. You could almost feel sorry for him. Harry couldn’t fit his clothes in the suitcase, since the soft drinks and sharp blades took up most of the space. Harry then walked outside, where a black taxi cab was waiting. He piled in, and let the poor taxi cab driver carry his one ton suitcase to the back trunk.
After Harry got to the airport, he had to go through security. The alarm bells had rang so badly that Harry’s eardrums had burst. “Can you come with me, maam,” asked a security guard.
About three hours later, Harry was allowed out of the interrogation room, and he boarded his airplane. All his knifes and sodas and sharp blades had been taken away. All he had in his suitcase was his wallet, with 52,251 dollars(which he had stolen from the bank) and a teddy bear, with a hole that harry had chewed through its tummy. Harry ordered carbonated water, with ‘light’ ice, and a cherry on top.
The airplane took off, and no flight attendants got Harry’s anger bubbling. He had been going to a anger management class downtown, and it had been going very well, and five hours later, the learjet landed, and Harry jumped out the window, forgetting his suitcase, and leaving the flight attendants rich with the 52,251 Harry had left in the suitcase.
Harry was in New York!
Harry Potter stood by the sidelines of the soccer game. Not football, soccer. (Harry Potter lives in America now). He booed when his team score a point against the opponent, The Seekers, for no apparent reason. “My team is horrible!” Harry thought. “Well, I must get involved in this “soccer” game”
Harry jumped off the bleachers, and ran out onto the soccer field. Just then, The Seeker goalie punted the soccer ball, and it came flying toward Harry. BAM
Harry flew back, and hit his head on the bleachers, almost cracking his head open like a coconut. Harry had been hit right in the forehead by the ball. Harry’s anger bubbled up like potion in his cauldron when he had forgotten to add Harry Hair. Harry ripped off his shirt, exposing his dropping arm muscles, and where his abs should have been, there were indented, like negative abs. If that’s possible. Harry leaped onto the soccer field once more, grabbed the soccer ball that had hit him in the head, and kicked it as hard as he could into the sky. The ball whizzed up, higher and higher, and then it started to fall. It was headed right toward him! Harry tried to run, but then it suddenly smacked him in the back, and Harry flopped onto the ground, grunting. He jumped up, and kicked the ball as hard as he could into the nearest goal, which turned out to be his team’s goal.
The Seekers won.
Harry tried to run, but his teammates trampled him, and harry died.
The top of the tower loomed high in her sights, but it looked even higher, because Inky was a cat. A Hobo Cat. Her black fur glistened in the sun, making Inky sweat. The judges sat on the other side of the tower, either texting, or doing whatever cats did when they were bored.
The timer started, and Inky lined up to race. The three other cats that Inky was going to beat, growled and boasted. Inky was the smallest of the four, but she was fast and light. Mocola, the first judge, blew the whistle, and Inky raced off. The three other cats were left behind in the dust. Inky scaled the tower, inch by inch, and bucket of sweat by bucket of sweat. To the cats down behind, it was raining.. Sweat. Cat sweat. Hobo Cat sweat. Mostly Hobo Cat sweat.
Inky yowled in frustration as she slipped on her own Hobo Cat sweat, but caught hold of a metal bar with one claw, and continued climbing. The contestants were way below her, but Inky didn’t even take a break. She just kept climbing. Like a cat. Like a Hobo Cat.
Finally, a couple dozen buckets of sweat later, Inky reached the top of the tower. There was waiting the prize that she had won, fair and cat. Inky grabbed it, and threw it off of the tower. The solid gold trophy hit the concrete sidewalk, and smashed like a watermelon thrown off the empire state building. Inky laughed.
The Sun was rising as Hoopa skied down the cold mountain side. He was about to enter a dark forest. Hoopa checked his two ski poles to see that one of them was cracking from the cold! A huge snow pile appeared in front of him, getting bigger each second. Hoopa desperately tried to slow down, but it was useless. He was just going so fast. Hoopa quickly jumped out of his skis and landed face first in the snow pile. Luckily, no snow got in his face-mask. Hoopa looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty AM. Hoopa took off his backpack and opened it. He plucked out his metal thermos, which was still warm from the hot chocolate, and took a big gulp. The hot drink unfroze his legs and warmed his fingers to the tips. There were a bunch of birds roosting in the trees. Hoopa put the thermos back in the backpack, and zipped it back up. He was going to explore the forest. With nothing else to do, Hoopa got up off his butt and trudged into the forest. Hoopa took regular drinks from the thermos to keep his body warm from the bitter cold wind blowing in the alpine mountains. Hoopa jumped when a mountain cat jumped down from a tree branch, startling a bunch of birds. Hoopa slowly backed away as the cat stalked Hoopa. Suddenly, Hoopa’s hand slipped and the hot chocolate slipped out of his hand, spilling in the snow. The cat leaped forward and ripped off Hoopa’s arm. Hoopa screamed as the cat chewed on his limb. Hoopa tried to run, but another cat ripped his leg from his body. Hoopa fell to the grounded, bleeding uncontrollably. Thanks to his ski pole, Hoopa was killed by snow leopards that were terribly hungry.
No offense Russians…
“Ahh! I’m hit Larrieh! I’m going downnnnnnn!!” Larrieh looked out his window to see his friend Jeiber plummeting to the barren desert below. There was a huge explosion as Jeiber’s F-16 crumpled into a ball of metal, taking Jeiber’s life with it. Larrieh didn’t even feel sorry for Jeiber. Jeiber had been so annoying during their training that Larrieh had almost wished that would happen to him. Larrieh had lost fifty-three packages of gummy worm boxes thanks to the late Jeiber. Larrieh grinned and resumed his dogfight with the enemy fighter jets, some insane Russians that had wanted to colonize the moon with mutated cows that could morph into frogs. That’s why Larrieh’s squadron of jets had been sent out, to stop the Russian spacecraft, named the “Корова автомобиля”, or “Cow Vehicle” in English. Larrieh aimed his machine gun at the Russian “Fighter Jet”, which was really a Cessna 182, with a max speed of 172 mph, and pressed the trigger. A second later, the Cessna exploded, and red liquid and small chunks of something splattered Larrieh’s window. At least the Cessna had a good paint job. Larrieh gunned down the other Cessna and turned around to face the launch pad of the Корова автомобиля. It was starting to rise up into the air, and the shock waves of the enormous force used to lift the rocket was causing Larrieh’s fighter jet to wobble in the air. Larrieh had to shoot his laser cannon’s into the space ship to stop it from populating the moon with mutated cows! Then the Russians would be unstoppable. Larrieh had to keep away from the ship or else he would crash into the shock waves and the plane would plummet to its death just like Jeiber. It was actually surprising that the Russians could hook up their “advanced” weaponry to the Cessna, which was a BB Gun. The BB’s would just bounce off of the metal armor of the F-16, but when shot into the engine, the plane would go out of control. That’s what happened to Jeiber. Exactly. Larrieh veered away from the Корова автомобиля and then fired a single laser cannon toward the Корова автомобиля. It missed by just a hair, melting some of the metal on the ship, making the KOP of Корова автомобиля disintegrate. Larrieh switched to his plasma gun, and almost crashed into the Корова автомобиля! The shock-wave turned the F-16 upside-down, and Larrieh fought to keep under control! Still upside-down, Larrieh zoomed under the Корова автомобиля and faced up, right under the engine of the Корова автомобиля. The power of the single engine kept Larrieh from crashing into the airplane. Larrieh aimed with his computerized aiming system, but then, Larrieh’s father’s voice echoed in his head. “Use your hands, my son,” Larrieh nodded in agreement, and turned off the aiming device, and fired. Just like that, the plasma cannon shot into the engine of the Корова автомобиля. Larrieh veered away, avoided the fatal blast that could have killed him. Larrieh had did it! Larrieh’s squadron radioed in, congratulating Larrieh. Suddenly, something heavy landed on the F-16’s nose. It was a piece of a cow, which looked mightily like a huge steak! Larrieh carefully maneuvered to keep the steak on the nose of the jet, and landed on the aircraft carrier. He enjoyed the Russian Frog steak and lived happily ever after.
Inky Bum was a homey-cat from the streets. Literally. She lived on the streets like a bum, and wore clothes like one too. Literally. She lived on the streets like a bum, and wore clothes like one too. Every day, Inky Bum would wake up from her bed on the rooftop of a McDonald’s fast food restaurant, and before it opened, she would sneak down its chimney like exhaust pipe for the deep fryer, and steal a huge great big bucket of still warm fries, and couple of strawberry milk shakes, and ten Fillet O’ Fishes, because Inky Bum’s actually a cat. Not even the security cameras would notice a small black Bum of a cat sneaking around stealing food. After that, Inky Bum would walk out the front door, triggering an alarm. Inky would sprint away, probably into a empty house, and eat her fill, feeding the rest of the fries and Fish Fillet’s to her bird friends, Bob and Joe, enormous pigeons that played as extras in West Side Story. After Bob and Joe had finished eating Inky’s leftovers, they would walk/fly over to Burger King for lunch. It was still five in the morning, so none of the stores were open. Inky would have Bob and Joe grab her, and fly her up to the roof of burger king, and Inky would shimmy down the fryer exhaust pipe, steal a bunch of two layer burgers, more fries, and some extra stuff for Bob and Joe. Then she would walk out the front door, and Bob and Joe would fly Inky Bum away. After they had finished eating, Bob and Joe would fly Inky to Rally’s, famous for their awesome french fries. Inky would steal three buckets of fries, walk out the front door, and Bob and Joe would fly her away. At the end of the day, they were full like a water balloon. Bob and Joe would fly away to their shack outside a meat packing building, and Inky would finish off the rest of her french fries, leaving some for a midnight snack.
We have two cats. Inky Brute, and Sasha Wee. (I add little nicknames to their names). Inky is the Brute of the cats. If you tickle her belly, she will get angry like hulk and start biting and scratching your flesh without stopping. I have accumulated many scars thanks to the Brute. The cat also has the nerve to jump up on our fish aquarium (with live fish) and stand on top of the lights and the filter. But luckily she can’t open the feeding door, or else the fish would’ve disappeared weeks ago. If you get Inky Brute mad enough, she’ll start chasing you around the house really fast. If your not fast enough, the Brute will bite your heels, inflicting wound after wound until you raise your red flag. Inky also used to climb our parakeet cage (with two parakeets inside) and hang their until I got her down. This usually happened in the morning, when the annoying birds were singing their loudest. I couldn’t blame Inky Brute if she was tired of those birds too. And then we have Sasha wee, our first cat. We actually got two cats from the Animal Shelter, Waffle, and Sasha, but Waffle either ran away or got attacked by a nasty racoon. Even though Sasha is huge and furry, she’s actually very kind, except if you pour water on her. Sometimes Sasha Wee and Inky Brute get in fights inside. I sometimes wonder if they’ll get over it and be cat-friends. Sasha is an outside cat. She spends maybe 80% of her day outside, and only comes inside when she’s hungry or its snowing outside. (Sasha hates snow). Inky Brute loves the snow though. She’ll frolic in it like a ballerina, until she gets stuck in a big pile of it or I throw a snowball at her. When I’m doing my math, Inky Brute like to strut up, and plop her tiny kitten body on the page. Other times, she’ll start biting it like a savage! Its very annoying, and my math book is done for if I keep letting Inky mistreat it. At night, Inky turns into a raving monster. She’ll chase you around without you making her mad, and then cuddle up and wait for you to touch her, and then start chasing you again. Sasha doesn’t do it, probably because shes an old brittle boned cat. About four years old in human years. Inky likes to stalk poor old Sasha, and then attack her too. I feel so sorry for Sasha Wee.