Return of the Cranatoes

Hello, nonexistent readers! (Yeah, Dwarf of the Dance, I’m not even counting YOU anymore!) Happy Thanksgiving! 
I ate heartily. Okay, no, I ate normally, but normally I eat scarcely. Something about people aside from my family, for whatever reason, made me lose most of my appetite. But this year it was not so! However, I did eat when I arrived home. I’m just not used to eating right after getting to my destination, thus my stomach was not adequately prepared to eat the multitudes. 
Cranatoes! They were my main dish. I actually ate two servings of them! Yes, they are what I look forward to most of all (desert aside). Mmm, and that pumpkin pie… At least, I think there was pumpkin pie hidden beneath the whip cream… I should have had more desert. But I was all sugared out. That’s what happens when your sister makes two kinds of delectable for breakfast, and right after that, your mother comes home from a race carrying a box of donuts. It’s not good, my friends! Well, actually, it was good, which is kind of my point. 
My mother is disgusted by cranatoes. She’s never tried it… She must be so deprived. It makes me sad. 
Is anyone experiencing bouts of insanity today? I woke up and could only walk like a drunk. A couple hours ago, I tripped, and then tripped while tripping, and then tripped while tripping while tripping. I couldn’t shuffle a deck of cards. My speech was all over the place. There were other things my tired brain will remember tomorrow. 
I tried a new tea today! And muffin. And donut. 
Did anyone else see the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade? Wasn’t it… abnormal? More bands, less floats, both awesome (Newsies) and odd (did you HEAR Daniel Radcliffe singing?!?) musical songs, and then there’s the 610 Stompers. Seriously. Even Al Roker was like, “Well, that was, haha, uh, oh, look, there’s…” 
I’m thinking about eating another donut now. Or something. My stomach’s in tears. Like I didn’t just feed it half an hour ago…
Oh, what a strange day it has been. 
I promise to write in Happy Rotter by December 6th (Sorry, Hugo!). 

Yeah. I’m done.

Joe

On Serious Offences

  Well, my very dear Virtually Nonexistent Virtual Blog Readers, it has come to my attention that one of you (I should say, all of you, since you seem to only consist of one person, that person being the Dancing Dwarf) is horribly offended by our new serial, Happy Rotter Strikes Again.  As I said in a comment posted under Chapter One, it is not at all our intention to demean the writings of J. K. Rowling.  Joe and I love J. K. Rowling, and we love the story of the Boy Who Lived.  That, beloved V.N.V.B.R.'s, is precisely why we embarked on our current spree of joyously uncontained mockery: we mock those whom we most love and admire.  If our expressions of affectionate esteem have in any way offended you, please chill out.  Stop being quite so serious.  Seriousness is bad for the complexion,  and it makes one's nose look dreadfully large.  There is nothing so unbecoming as seriousness.  Silliness, on the other hand, shrinks one's nose down to nothing, and it is excellent for the complexion.  Take me, for example.  I have a minuscule nose, and my complexion--well, never mind about that.  Nobody is ever allowed to see my complexion, anyway.
  Finally, my brethren, bear these things in mind when the next installment of Happy Rotter comes out.  Remember that we are not being serious, and remember that you should not be serious, either.  That way, we can all be happy, and frivolous, and make fun of whomever we wish without fear of offence.

~Hugo

Happy Rotter Strikes Again: Chapter Two

Happy leaned his head back against the ruined wall behind him, thinking wildly.  Dead people don't come back.  Not really.  I mean, when I stole that Resurgence Rock and used it, the people that came back were just ghosts; they didn't eat lemon drops or have tickly beards.  Suddenly, the wall behind him gave way and he found himself lying on the floor, staring at dusty fissures in the ceiling.  Muttering angrily and nursing a bruised elbow, Happy rolled over to glare at the defective wall, only to find that it was really a door. 

  "Happy!" a female voice screamed right over him. "What are you doing on the floor?"

  Happy, startled, tried to leap to his feet, but all that he managed was an awkward scramble foward into the wall next to his spot on the floor.  Grunting, he scrambled around on the floor, finally lurching upright.  A teenaged girl with wildly bushy brown hair and large dark eyes was staring at him, giggling.

  "Hermana!"  Happy cried happily.  He was so happy to see her that he could even overlook the fact that she was laughing at him, something which he normally did not allow, even from best friends.  "What are you doing at Pigpimples in June?"

  "The same thing you're doing," Hermana said, tossing her crazy hair.   "Helping with the rebuilding."

  Happy bristled at the assumption that he, the Chosen One, should participate in such menial tasks.  "Actually," he announced superciliously, "I'm here for a meeting with the new headmaster." 

  "Oh, do you know who it is?"  Hermana's voice was an excited squeal. 

  "No, I don't.  I came here to find out," Happy admitted reluctantly.  He hated to admit ignorance. 

  "Well, I'll see you later.  I have to get back to work now, but Mrs. Weasel has invited me to dinner tonight.  Are you going to be there?"  Hermana looked hopeful.

  "Yes, of course I am going to be there!  Can't you remember that I live there now?"

  "Oh, yeah, that's right!  Oh, Happy, I'm so glad that you finally managed to get rid of those awful muppets of yours!"

  "Yeah, well, you aren't the only one.  Look, I gotta be going.  See you tonight, okay?"

  "See you, Happy!"

  As Happy proceeded on his way to the headmaster's office, he wondered whom he would find there.  Would it be Professor Aphrodite McDonald, who was, after all, Deputy Headmistress?  Or, and here his heart skipped a beat, would it be Professor Dumbdoorknob himself?  He did, after all, seem to be back from the dead...

  Lost in thought, Happy walked right past the smashed gargoyle that marked the entrance to his destination.

  "Oy!  Ye!  Aren't ye supposed to be comin' in here?" a muffled voice with a thick Scottish accent hailed him.

  Whirling around with his hand straying to the underarm holster where he kept his wand, Happy abruptly realized that it was only the head of the gargoyle, speaking from the floor in the middle of the hallway.  Its voice was muffled because it could not open its jaws properly.

  "Uh, yeah," Happy mumbled, a blush heating his stubbly cheeks.  "I was, uh, thinking."

  "Yeah, sure, like ye teenagers ever think.  Step on up.  Headmaster's waitin'."

  Muttering a thank-you, Happy started slowly up the revolving staircase.  Once, it had moved smoothly in swift circles, but now it groaned and shuddered as it slowly, grindingly, ascended.  Happy eyed his conveyance uneasily; from the sounds it made, and the puffs of dust that rose into the air at regular intervals, the staircase was about to collapse. Don't those stupid people in charge of repairs ever do anything around her? he thought angrily. 

  Finally, the staircase brought him, with a jerk and a painful wheeze, to the door of the office.  Taking a deep breath, Happy reluctantly turned the doorknob and stepped into the devastated study.  Raising his eyes to the headmaster's desk, Happy suddenly seized his wand and leaped back into the doorway.

  "You!" he bellowed, "But--but--you're dead!"

  Behind Professor Dumbdoorknob's desk sat Severed Snake.

~Hugo the Horrible