Attack of the Killer Katelyn

Harry, Hermione and Ron were walking down the halls, talking about History of Magic (even Hermione admits it is pointless). And then fate doomed them: a frightening high-pitched laugh pierced the soft buzzing of other students. “What was that?” Harry shouted, plugging his ears.

    “Dunno,” Ron yelled back, his eyes squeezed shut in agony. They three of them fled to see what was wrong. And they met the terror that would haunt them for a looooong time.

    There stood this short girl, only about four feet, six inches tall. Her fake-shaded highlighter blonde hair was pulled up in a jaunty ponytail, wobbling when she chuckled. She had thick brown glasses on and instead of black school robes, she was wearing a hot pink T-Shirt, from Abercrombie (people who wear Abercrombie obviously have to show it off). Two girls stood beside her, the first with wavy dark brown hair, the second with black hair and buck teeth.

    “And like, Greg said that only dorks wear American Eagle,” bucky-beaver grunted, swinging a black purse with red lipstick smeared all over it.

    “Eeeeeeeeeeheeheeheeeeeeee!” the Abercrombie girl laughed, or screeched, obviously agreeing. “Oh Jessica, you’re like, so funny.”

    “Ooh! Katelyn! Did Sam ask you out?” the first sidekick asked, tossing her hair back behind her.

    “No,” Katelyn sighed depressingly. “Did he, like, ask anyone else, Kalie?”

    “Yeah, he asked Amanda,” Kalie admitted.

    “WHAT?!??” Katelyn shrieked, turning on Kalie. “He, like, said he would always ask, like, me, like, first!” she walked to this stout black haired boy.

    “You asked, like, that twit, like, out?” Katelyn seethed.

    “I had every right to. You were treating me like vermin,” Sam answered coolly, but fear filled his face as Katelyn turned red with anger.

    “Talk to the hand cuz’ the hand don’t talk back,” she huffed, stomping off to wherever her next class was.

    “What a bad use of grammar,” Hermione remarked. “It’s ‘doesn’t talk back’, not ‘don’t talk back’. Honestly.”

    “And why would someone talk to hands?” Ron asked sheepishly.

    They walked off, muttering about how melodramatic Katelyn was, when a sudden crash echoed through the corridor.

    Harry was uncomfortably seated on the cold, hard floor. A hot pink blur hopped off the ground. Harry pulled his glasses back on...

    “Hey!” Katelyn wailed. “Watch where you’re going, four eyes!”

    “With glasses like yours, we should call you sixteen eyes!” Harry mumbled back, placing his things inside his bag.

    Katelyn gave a dignified huff. “Don’t you know who I am?” she asked, smirking triumphantly.

    “Some spazzy little pig with magnifying glasses against her face!” Ron bellowed, slowly trudging toward Katelyn and company. Harry feebly held his arm in front of Ron. He hesitated, coiling his fingers into a deadly fist.

    “I-I-you-you little- ARGH!” Katelyn shouted, throwing her hands up into the air, and marched off, her ponytail bouncing up and down. Kalie and Jessica chugged behind her.

    “Thanks, mate,” Harry said gratefully.

    “No problem,” Ron answered.

    “She’s one Froot Loop short of a fuul box,” Harry added.

    “You can say that again,” Hermione said dryly.

    “She’s one Froot-”

    “We got the idea, Harry.”

    “Let’s see...ugh, Potions next,” Ron groaned, crumpling his schedule into a tight wad.

    They arrived at the Potions dungeon a little early. Students were setting up their cauldrons and dumping ingredients out of their bags. They found good seats when Professor Snape stalked in, with an eerie smile penciled on his face.

    “Class, we have three transfer students from Florida,” he said, drawling. “They are Katelyn, Kalie, and Jessica.” Harry was shocked; few people were called by their first names in Snape’s class. The three horrors bounced down the middle row, sitting behind them. “Now I want to you give them a warm welcome!” he barked. A few people muttered hullo and welcome, obviously seeing the brats they were.

    Everyone began boiling their potions and discussing the directions or otherwise. Katelyn suddenly wandered back up the aisle, confronting Snape. “You know what, Professor? You are hot,” she purred, bouncing on one leg flirtingly.

    “Now, not in class-” he started, a filthy smile creeping larger and larger.

    “Oh, but you have such a body!” she exclaimed, forcing what cleavage she barely had out at Snape.

    “Touche,” muttered Hermione. Harry and Ron nodded dully in unison. Before anyone could say ‘gross’, Katelyn hopped up and wrapped her arms around Snape’s neck, kissing him.

    “I think I’m gonna hurl,” Ron moaned, as Snape’s eyes close in passion. Ron rushed out of the dungeon, covering his mouth. Hermione laughed, but ended it with a hiccup.

    “Why do I hiccup when *hic* I laugh hard? *hic*” she grumbled lightly. Harry ducked under the table, trying to shield the nastiness with Millicent’s fat behind in front of his face.

    “I did not need to see that,” Harry mumbled up to Hermione, still hiccupping. “Now I’ll be traumatized for life.” Hermione laughed and patted his shoulder in mock sympathy.

    Katelyn finally parted with Snape. “Ooh, Snapey...” she crooned, her face red with fire. She started off kissing him again.

    “Goodness! Doesn’t she know Snape has probably never heard of a toothbrush?” Hermione asked exasperatedly. Snape and Katelyn began to slump to the floor, Katelyn on top.

    The bell rang, bringing relief to everyone. Harry and Hermione dashed out, never wanting to see that ever again.

    Ron stood by the corner, clutching his stomach. “You didn’t stay for the whole show did you?” he asked weakly.

    “Previews to credits,” Harry muttered. “Wish I’d run out of there too.”

    “We should tell McGonagall,” Hermione said earnestly. “Snape should be teaching class, not snogging with students.”

    “No!” Ron shouted. “Let’s leave it for a while. It could be fun...”