The Extremely Private Communal Notebook

Dear Moony Wormtail and Padfoot:

I hate you all. I really do. Here I lie, in such a state, as miserable as I've ever been in my life, and what are you lot doing? Running away from my singing and my stench. Except for Peter who is forcing me to run away from him, as he is doing his Happy Dance of Death right here next to me. Please stop, Peter. For the love of God, please stop. You have no rhythm. Please stop. Oh God. Is this how you guys feel when I sing? I see. I shall never sing again.

I'm still considering becoming a monk, in case you're all interested. Just because you've all shamelessly dashed my hopes for the Marauding Monks, simultaneously breaking my heart into even tinier pieces than it was, that doesn't mean that I have decided to give up my dream. "Father Prongsy!" I'll be Father Prongsy, too. I'll be the best Father Prongsy that ever fathered.

Peter. We got it. The hair, the prettiness, and no, we won't forget the boobs. Here's a tip though. All girls have boobs. Get used to them. They're omnipotent, too. They know if you're looking at them; they know what you're thinking (so don't go getting any fresh ideas). Girl's boobs are all-powerful, man.

Anyway...fine, fine FINE! FINE REMUS! Don't you dare throw that bucket of water on me! I'll take a shower...I promise...just let me finish writing...okay, okay! I'm going!

Off to pout bathe,

Father Prongsy...erm...I mean Prongs

Dear Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs:

Sirius is right. Sorry, James. I shouldn't be doing my Happy Dance of Death without lying there on the floor like that. However! Moony just convinced you to go shower, so now I'm free! Pardon the shaky writing, I'm just bouncing around a bit as I try to write this, so...hope you can understand what I'm saying.

James, don't give up on the Marauding Monks. Maybe one day, I'll learn the Unalienable Truth and I'll join you. Maybe Padfoot will finally shag every girl in school, and then he'll join, too! And maybe one day, Moony will realize that McGonagall is a dirty, stinking cat, and then he'll join, too! I promise! Don't give up yet. Father Prongsy shall live!!!!

Moony...um...heh. Please ignore my last entry. No, Sirius, I'm not blushing! I have a fever!

Yours in um... "illness?",

Wormtail

Dear Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs:

James, you're showering! You're really showering! Oh, thank you sweet Merlin! Thank you, god of cleanliness! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

James, you're already on your way to getting over Lily! You've gotten up, you're clean, you've even accepted a piece of my finest chocolate. Now...a date! Yes, we will set you up on a date to get your mind of Lily. How's that sound? I mean...it's only one day 'til Hogsmeade, but maybe we can scrounge something up...

Wormtail, duly noted and ignored.

Yours in Cupid...ing,

Moony

Dear Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs:

Way to go, James! You're up! You're about! You've stopped singing! You don't smell like a dirty flobberworm that has had a rotten skunk rubbed on it anymore! Now! Onward and upward back into the dating pool! Moony and I have already begun finding your perfect mate! Do you prefer blondes with small breasts or brunettes with big ones? We're having trouble deciding for you.

Now, Wormtail, let me tell you about the flobberworms and the hippogriffs, just in case your date goes well tomorrow. See, when a man likes a woman...hey!

RUDENESS! Ahem...sorry. Apparently, Moony, aka "THE OFFICIAL NOTEBOOK CENSOR" has decided that this discussion is not appropriate for the notebook. He has also decided that I am not the foremost expert on sexual education, and thus I'm not authorized to have this discussion with you. He has rushed off to the library to find a bazillion dusty old books, which are probably disturbingly illustrated. Wormtail, I'm sorry. I tried.

Well, off to talk to the girls to see which you should date, James.

Yours in sexual non-education,

Padfoot