Post by Jeffrey on Aug 4, 2003 15:20:20 GMT -5
I begin this story by saying... all my stories are this weird or weirder. Don't expect to get much more out of them other than a chuckle or laugh (or groan depending on your tastes *shrug*).
Summary: What happens when suddenly, the value of those galleons, sickles and knuts all depreciate in value to less than dirt? How will our friends cope? Why, they find jobs in Muggle communities of course (Seeing as how… well… most other places have a semi-good economy, right? We’re going to assume this is sometime in the mid 90’s so that the US economy is also pretty good unlike it is today, cool?)! But… in an ironic twist of fate, they are forced to prostitute themselves for their pay. No, not that kind of prostitution, rather, selling themselves out for a lesser cause on Muggle television. What goes down in Hollywood when the wizarding world collides headfirst into the foothills? Find out here!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. all belong to J. K. Rowling. The Salvation Army belongs to itself I believe… and Harry Potter books also belong to J. K. Rowling. Right? Right.
Harry Potter and the Secret Stalker
“So, what am I supposed to be selling again?” Harry tilted his head in question.
“How am I supposed to know, kid? They’re some kind of books some lady is paying me well to advertise. Are you in or out?” The exec puffed on a cigar nonchalantly, exhaling the smoke into Harry’s face.
“Well… I guess I have to don’t I?” Harry sighed. He didn’t like to say where all his parents’ hard earned money went (Firebolts *coughcough*), but he knew that he did need to get some of it back. With the inflation and everything, it was getting harder everyday, causing wizards like himself to take to Muggle streets in search of jobs. Harry’s predicament began when he found himself across the pond somehow with an extraordinary headache and no recollection of how he made it there. No matter, he was in someplace called “Hollywood” (which was odd because he still had yet to see anything even slightly resembling holly, let alone a whole woods full of it) and was determined to make the best of it.
He landed an acting role in some sort of advertisement in which he had no idea what he was selling. Harry had sort of had a secret passion for drama and the stage and thought he might be well at home. This was not the case. The next day, he was at the studio with lots of angry, red-faced Muggles not unlike Uncle Vernon on a good day.
“All right, kid, you say, ‘I read the whole series in only a month! They’re great!’ You got that?” the director sneered. Harry nodded.
“I read the whole series in only a month. They’re great.”
“Yeah, but more feeling, all right?”
“I read the whole series in only a month. They’re great.”
“More! Make me cry!”
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!”
“I’m not feeling it! Don’t make me pound it out of you, twerp!”
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!”
“That’s the ticket! All right, let’s role it!”
Harry said his lines with so much feeling that he felt his ears pop with the exertion. Afterwards, he was hustled out of the studio with a tidy wad of cash in his pocket. It wasn’t enough, he’d have to work some more, but he’d find a way.
3 months later, during his stay in America…
Harry shared a flat with a fat, creepy man who looked like Draco Malfoy would if he let himself go. But it was a place to stay, and Harry could grin and bear it.
The television was on while Harry was reading the classifieds for more jobs. All of a sudden, weird tinkling music floated out of the speakers and Harry looked up to see his name in gold print on the TV. He naturally thought it was a sign from his dead parents and flipped out, before being subdued by a flying fork aimed for his head. He watched the TV as images of himself flashed on and off. Then, there he was in all his gawky glory.
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!” TV Harry yelped. It was Harry’s ad. It was currently spouting a quick summary of Harry’s life from Lord Voldemort to his 5th year at Hogwarts. Harry was more than a little paranoid.
“How do these people know these things about me? Did Ron or Hermione tell? Did anybody? DO I HAVE A STALKER?! EEK!” Harry squealed and promptly ran to the nearest airport, stowed aboard a plane and went back to London, leaving the Draco wannabe standing at the doorstep cursing strange children who didn’t pay their rent.
Ron Weasley and the Butt-Ugly Hand-Me-Downs
“The holiday season is back again and many of you have seen our volunteers around and about your town with donation buckets. The holidays are a time to get together with your family and be happy while carving the Christmas goose and sipping egg nog. But what about other, less fortunate families? Some orphans don’t have the option of goose or roast beef and never receive presents. This Christmas, help those less fortunate and place some spare change in a bucket. You’ll help make a child very happy. But your donation won’t only benefit the homeless, but also those in need. Meet Ronald Weasley, the 6th child of 7. Most of his possessions are butt-ugly hand-me-downs, I mean, c’mon! Aren’t you pouring your heart for this poor kid? His father works for the Ministry of Magic and they believe that that’s enough to support even 4 kids? What a bunch of losers!”
“Malfoy! I can’t work like this! I demand to work with somebody else!”
“Nah, nah, c’mon, Weasel, I can do it after I stop laughing, hehe!”
“You better do it right this time!”
“Um, guys, we’re still rolling. This is live.”
“Hm? Oh yes. You’re money will go to help starving, absurdly poor families like the Weasel’s having something for Christmas dinner that is more than a can of beans. Ooof! Hey!”
“You deserve it Malfoy!”
“I’ll get my father to-”
“Boys-”
“To what? Tap me on the head with his cane? Buy your Quidditch team something else to ensure your spot on the team?”
“Just finish the commercial, please.”
“He does not! He’ll do much worse!”
“JUST DO THE d**n COMMERCIAL!”
“Allrightsorrymisterdirectormansir. Donatetodayandsaveafamilyfromstarvationandlackofpresents.”
“That’s better. Your checks are in the mail.”
(Expect more characters' POV at a later date.)
Summary: What happens when suddenly, the value of those galleons, sickles and knuts all depreciate in value to less than dirt? How will our friends cope? Why, they find jobs in Muggle communities of course (Seeing as how… well… most other places have a semi-good economy, right? We’re going to assume this is sometime in the mid 90’s so that the US economy is also pretty good unlike it is today, cool?)! But… in an ironic twist of fate, they are forced to prostitute themselves for their pay. No, not that kind of prostitution, rather, selling themselves out for a lesser cause on Muggle television. What goes down in Hollywood when the wizarding world collides headfirst into the foothills? Find out here!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. all belong to J. K. Rowling. The Salvation Army belongs to itself I believe… and Harry Potter books also belong to J. K. Rowling. Right? Right.
Sell Outs
Harry Potter and the Secret Stalker
“So, what am I supposed to be selling again?” Harry tilted his head in question.
“How am I supposed to know, kid? They’re some kind of books some lady is paying me well to advertise. Are you in or out?” The exec puffed on a cigar nonchalantly, exhaling the smoke into Harry’s face.
“Well… I guess I have to don’t I?” Harry sighed. He didn’t like to say where all his parents’ hard earned money went (Firebolts *coughcough*), but he knew that he did need to get some of it back. With the inflation and everything, it was getting harder everyday, causing wizards like himself to take to Muggle streets in search of jobs. Harry’s predicament began when he found himself across the pond somehow with an extraordinary headache and no recollection of how he made it there. No matter, he was in someplace called “Hollywood” (which was odd because he still had yet to see anything even slightly resembling holly, let alone a whole woods full of it) and was determined to make the best of it.
He landed an acting role in some sort of advertisement in which he had no idea what he was selling. Harry had sort of had a secret passion for drama and the stage and thought he might be well at home. This was not the case. The next day, he was at the studio with lots of angry, red-faced Muggles not unlike Uncle Vernon on a good day.
“All right, kid, you say, ‘I read the whole series in only a month! They’re great!’ You got that?” the director sneered. Harry nodded.
“I read the whole series in only a month. They’re great.”
“Yeah, but more feeling, all right?”
“I read the whole series in only a month. They’re great.”
“More! Make me cry!”
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!”
“I’m not feeling it! Don’t make me pound it out of you, twerp!”
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!”
“That’s the ticket! All right, let’s role it!”
Harry said his lines with so much feeling that he felt his ears pop with the exertion. Afterwards, he was hustled out of the studio with a tidy wad of cash in his pocket. It wasn’t enough, he’d have to work some more, but he’d find a way.
***
3 months later, during his stay in America…
Harry shared a flat with a fat, creepy man who looked like Draco Malfoy would if he let himself go. But it was a place to stay, and Harry could grin and bear it.
The television was on while Harry was reading the classifieds for more jobs. All of a sudden, weird tinkling music floated out of the speakers and Harry looked up to see his name in gold print on the TV. He naturally thought it was a sign from his dead parents and flipped out, before being subdued by a flying fork aimed for his head. He watched the TV as images of himself flashed on and off. Then, there he was in all his gawky glory.
“I READ THE WHOLE SERIES IN ONLY A MONTH! THEY’RE GREAT!” TV Harry yelped. It was Harry’s ad. It was currently spouting a quick summary of Harry’s life from Lord Voldemort to his 5th year at Hogwarts. Harry was more than a little paranoid.
“How do these people know these things about me? Did Ron or Hermione tell? Did anybody? DO I HAVE A STALKER?! EEK!” Harry squealed and promptly ran to the nearest airport, stowed aboard a plane and went back to London, leaving the Draco wannabe standing at the doorstep cursing strange children who didn’t pay their rent.
Ron Weasley and the Butt-Ugly Hand-Me-Downs
“The holiday season is back again and many of you have seen our volunteers around and about your town with donation buckets. The holidays are a time to get together with your family and be happy while carving the Christmas goose and sipping egg nog. But what about other, less fortunate families? Some orphans don’t have the option of goose or roast beef and never receive presents. This Christmas, help those less fortunate and place some spare change in a bucket. You’ll help make a child very happy. But your donation won’t only benefit the homeless, but also those in need. Meet Ronald Weasley, the 6th child of 7. Most of his possessions are butt-ugly hand-me-downs, I mean, c’mon! Aren’t you pouring your heart for this poor kid? His father works for the Ministry of Magic and they believe that that’s enough to support even 4 kids? What a bunch of losers!”
“Malfoy! I can’t work like this! I demand to work with somebody else!”
“Nah, nah, c’mon, Weasel, I can do it after I stop laughing, hehe!”
“You better do it right this time!”
“Um, guys, we’re still rolling. This is live.”
“Hm? Oh yes. You’re money will go to help starving, absurdly poor families like the Weasel’s having something for Christmas dinner that is more than a can of beans. Ooof! Hey!”
“You deserve it Malfoy!”
“I’ll get my father to-”
“Boys-”
“To what? Tap me on the head with his cane? Buy your Quidditch team something else to ensure your spot on the team?”
“Just finish the commercial, please.”
“He does not! He’ll do much worse!”
“JUST DO THE d**n COMMERCIAL!”
“Allrightsorrymisterdirectormansir. Donatetodayandsaveafamilyfromstarvationandlackofpresents.”
“That’s better. Your checks are in the mail.”
(Expect more characters' POV at a later date.)
