The Adventures of Larry Porter

The pain in his head was excruciating. It felt as though he was on fire. Why did this have to happen to him? So many times before he had felt this, but this was the worst ever. There had to be a way to make it stop, but what could he do; the usual cures just weren't working. What Larry Porter feared most had happened; he had gotten into his Aunt Bessie's dandelion wine again and was suffering the mother of all hangovers!

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"Larry, Larry; time for breakfast," called the frail young lad, standing nervously, outside Larry's door.

"Sod off you flaming little nancy-boy," called Larry, from deep inside his covers. "I'll eat when I'm ready. If you don't go away, right now, I'll bitch-slap you like you've never had it before."

These words were enough to make little Herbert Pusswillow run for his mum.

"Mum, oh mum, Larry is in an awful state this morning, you should have heard what he called me," wailed the frail, yet effeminate child.

Bessie Pusswillow just shook her head. She didn't know which she detested the most, her own misbegotten spawn, now clinging to her housedress, or the little prick upstairs, who succeeded in making all their lives miserable.

Bessie remembered that day, eleven years ago, that little baby Larry had come to live with them. She and her husband Hubert had seen the odd man, walking up their drive, carrying the large basket. As he got near the house, they could see that there was a baby in the basket and this strange fellow was apparently going to leave it on their doorstep! Hubert had quickly pulled the curtains and slipped a for-sale sign out under the front door, but it was to no avail.

"Can't fool me that easily, Pusswillow. I know you're in there," the stranger had said. "This is your nephew, Larry; you know, Ben and Patsy's boy. His parents have dumped him at the animal shelter and taken off for parts unknown. You are the closest relatives he has, so it's up to you to take care of him. You can always say no, but that just means that me and some of the boys will have to come back later and stomp the crap out of you, your decision though."

Hubert and Bessie were moved to compassion. The stranger's words, and the fear of a world-class butt kicking, had encouraged them to take the baby into their home, to raise along with their own little mistake, Herbert.

What a mess her family had become,

thought Bessie. None of the four Evans sisters, she being one of them, had ended up with the lives they had wanted. Lilly was killed in some kind of a strange explosion along with that weird husband of hers, leaving their little boy, Harry, to live with her sister, Petunia, and that pigs ass husband of hers. Petunia was further saddled with her porcine son Dudley, whom no one would trust with a burnt out match. Bessie and Hubert had been stuck with the worst of all; however, Larry Porter was the nastiest child imaginable. She could understand why her sister Patsy would want to dump him off and head for parts unknown.

The only good thing about Larry was, so far, he didn't show any signs of being affected by the dark secret of the Evans family. His Aunt Lilly had been a card-carrying, certified witch: not the kind that most men marry, she was a real wand-waving, spell-casting witch. Rumor had it that their son, Harry, had some odd ways about him that caused some people to believe that he had inherited his mother's powers. Lilly's husband was a wizard, so it was a good bet that Harry would be a wizard too. Fortunately, Petunia didn't have to worry about her fat lot of a son Dudley, he couldn't even go to the loo without written instructions, wasn't likely that he was going to be a wizard. As for her own son, Herbert; he seemed content to spend his days in the park, frisking about and molesting an occasional chipmunk, nothing strange about that, for a Pusswillow male that is. Herbert was definitely not wizard material.

Bessie sighed; there was however, one good thing that could come of Larry having magical powers. If he did, then they could ship him off to that academy or school or whatever it was that they had for school age magic children; Hogtied or something like that was the name of it. She had heard Petunia speak of it once, and how they were determined to keep Harry from going, afraid that it would sully the name of Dursely. According to Petunia, it was a strange, dark place and the only way you could communicate with anyone there was to send a messenger owl, like some people did with pigeons.

As if on cue, Larry came stomping into the kitchen in his usual grumpy mood.

"Good Lord, Aunt Bessie, how big are you going to get? Any more potatoes for you and you won't be able to turn around in the kitchen," he said in greeting.

"Now see here boy, you can't talk to your aunt like that," stammered a voice from the corner of the kitchen.

"You still alive Uncle Hubert? I guess that nasty smell coming from the garage wasn't you after all." Damn the luck, thought Larry.

"Now see here, boy..." started Uncle Hubert again, before Larry cut him off.

"Look, Uncle Hubert, I've warned you before about getting in my face. You remember how strange, almost magical things happen when you get in my face!"

"Yeah, strange magical things like Larry setting fire to Papa's Liberace record collection," said Herbert in a stage whisper.

A withering glare from Larry silenced his sexuality-challenged cousin.

"All right, that's enough, everybody eat or I'll throw it to the hogs," shrilled Aunt Bessie.

"And I'm sure that Uncle Hubert's family would appreciate it," said Larry with a smirk, as he elbowed Herbert out of the way and sat down at the kitchen table.

Larry proceeded to serve himself, as was his usual routine; he took the biggest pieces of sausage, a double helping of eggs and all the toast that wasn't burnt. A nice cup of coffee; he hated tea and always insisted that Aunt Bessie make him coffee, and he was ready to pig out.

Hubert, Bessie and Herbert now felt it was safe to sit down, as Larry was busy gorging himself and would probably leave them alone till his feeding frenzy was over. They didn't get a chance to take a bite however, before a scratching at the kitchen window interrupted them.

"Look at that, a bloody chicken is trying to break into the kitchen," laughed Larry.

Uncle Hubert and Aunt Bessie looked at each other; they both had an idea of what this meant, because the bird at the window was not a chicken, it was an owl.

Aunt Bessie opened the window; the bird flew in, majestically circled the table three times, and landed in the bowl of scrambled eggs, where it promptly relieved itself.

"Bloody chicken," yelled Larry, as he aimed a butter knife at the offending creature.

"No Larry," screamed Uncle Hubert, jumping in front of the bird and taking the butter knife full force in the back of the head.

Uncle Hubert fell to the floor with a crash.

"Whoa, cold cocked him for sure," said Larry with unhidden pride.

"Larry, this isn't a chicken, it's a messenger owl from a school called Hogtied," said Aunt Bessie as she tried to rouse her husband to conciseness.

"Hogtied, never heard of it, is it that school for the criminally-stupid over by Bristol?" asked Larry.

By now, Aunt Bessie had awakened her husband and seated him back at the table. Making sure that Hubert wasn't going to fall off his chair, Bessie retrieved a somewhat soggy message from the now relaxed bird.

"It's a letter for you, from Hogwarts School of Magic," she informed Larry. "I knew that it was Hog something."

Larry took the letter from his aunt and read it.

"Says here that I'm invited to join some kind of school where they teach you magic tricks. At least that's what I make of it," said Larry.

Thinking fast on her feet, Bessie responded. "Yes, that's right, your uncle and I were saving it as a surprise for you. We know how much you like to play tricks and how good you are at it, we thought you might like to go to this school and study something that you were really interested in."

Larry eyed her suspiciously. He couldn't imagine his aunt and uncle doing something nice for him. He knew that he truly was a nasty little shit, if they wanted to do this, there had to be a hidden agenda.

"I'll think about it. Where exactly is this place?" asked Larry.

"Oh, back east somewhere, I'm not sure really," replied Aunt Bessie.

Larry wasn't sure that he wanted to go off to school somewhere, when his aunt didn't seem to even know where it was located.

"Well, like I said, I'll think about it. Right now I'm off to hang with Stuffer and Beetle. We're going past Mary May Brown's house," said Larry.

"You shouldn't associate with that lot, Larry, and you really should stop harassing that poor Brown girl, just because she's plain," chided Aunt Bessie.

"Plain, she's terminally-ugly, her face should have a condemned sign on it," laughed Larry, as he headed for the front door.

It wasn't too bad a day out, Larry noticed, as he walked his usual slow ambling walk. He liked to think of his walk as a cross between John Wayne and Elton John. Something for everybody, he chuckled to himself. He hoped that his mates, Stuffer and Beetle, would be up for a walk over to Beaver Road. After they finished pissing Mary May Brown's mother off, they could head over to Beaver road and try to catch Patty Disbro laying out in her thong bikini. What a rack that Patty has, Larry thought.

Soon enough, Larry was in front of Stuffer's house; Stuffer and Beetle were standing out front.

"Hey mates, you ready to head over to Mary May Brown's house?" Larry called to them.

"Don't know that we want to do that today," said Beetle, in a usually haughty manner.

Oh, Oh, looks like the Beetle is on a power trip again,

thought Larry.

"Maybe we're tired of you calling the shots all of the time," grumped Beetle. "Maybe we want to decide what the action is going to be."

Larry looked at the two boys. Beetle was obviously the one with the attitude; Stuffer just stood there with his head hanging down. Stuffer didn't want any part of an angry Larry Porter; Beetle was the one that Larry would have to deal with

"All right mate, you decide what we will do today," said Larry, smiling and holding out his hand.

Beetle, proving just how dim-witted he really was, thought that Larry was actually serious about his friendly gesture. He smiled and stuck out his hand. Larry grabbed Beetle's hand and immediately kicked him in the crotch as hard as he could. Beetle hit the ground with a sound like a cow pooping on a flat rock. Larry whirled around to make sure that Stuffer wasn't going to do anything stupid, but he needn't worry. Stuffer was already doing his Frenchman imitation and was running away as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him.

"Come back here you idiot!" Larry yelled to Stuffer. "Help me get the beetle back on his feet."

Stuffer cautiously returned to the scene of the mayhem, and was relieved to see that chances were good that Beetle would live.

"Before I let you up, you fat lot, you tell me who runs things around here," hissed Larry as he grabbed Beetle by the throat.

"You do, you do Larry. I wasn't using my head."

"Too right mate. You talk to me like that again and I'll be on you like stink on shit," Larry threatened.

Larry and Stuffer helped their large friend to his feet and let him catch his breath.

"As I was saying before; are you ready to head over to Mary May Brown's house? Thought we could go past Patty Disbro's house after that, we might be able to catch her in her thong," beamed Larry.

"Sure Larry, sure, whatever you want to do," said Beetle.

Stuffer just nodded his head up and down.

"Right then, we'll sneak over to Mary May Brown's and sing her that little song we made up in her honor," said Larry, grinning.

The other two boys nodded eagerly and they headed off to Mary May Brown's house.

They soon arrived at their destination and crept around the side of the house to their victim's bedroom window.

"All right mates, let's sing her that little song and see what kind of reaction we get," chuckled Harry. "A one and a two..."

(Sung to the tune of 'Mrs. Brown You've Got a Lovely Daughter', with apologies to Herman's Hermits.)

Mrs. Brown you've got an ugly daughter;

Girls as plain as her can give a scare;

But it's saaad; she's so damn nasty now;

She's made it clear good hygiene doesn't count;

I got sick the first time that I saw her;

Hurled some chunks and tried to run away;

Things can chaaange, but not her underpants;

She's made it clear that they can last ten days;

Walkin about, even in a crowd, well;

You'll pick her out, cause the smell is so bad;

She could stop a clock with just one grimace;

She could make you switch to Nancy-boooys;

Don't let her get close, be sure to hold you're nose;

She needs a steel-wool bath with turpentine;

Mrs. Brown you've got an ugly daughter;

Mrs. Brown you've got an ugly daughter;

Mrs. Brown you've got an ugly daughter.

Doubled up with laughter, Larry didn't see the flowerpot coming until it collided with Stuffer's head. Fortunately for the Stuffer, this was the least vulnerable part of his body; he just shook it off and began running as hard as he could with his two mates.

"I see you little bastards. I'll have the constable on you Larry Porter. I'll have all of you in the lock-up, you won't get away with this," yelled a highly agitated and highly accurate Mrs. Brown. "If you ever come back here I'll get the lot of you."

The boys ran for five blocks before coming to rest under a large maple tree. To the amusement of his friends, the Stuffer had a nasty gash in the side of his head that was bleeding profusely.

"The old bat got you a good one, Stuffer," said Beetle.

"Yeah, didn't know she could throw that hard," replied the slow yet dull-witted boy.

"Here, hold this to it," said Larry, handing his mate a well-used handkerchief.

Stuffer did as he was told and soon the bleeding stopped. He tried to hand the handkerchief back, but Larry declined.

"Look, we're just across the street from Patty Disbro's; I bet she's laying out back in that thong bikini right now," said Larry.

The three young perverts immediately ran across the street, to the big tree just outside the fence that surrounded Patty Disbro's back yard. Quietly, they shinnied up the tree, taking every caution to not be discovered. Slowly, the three of them inched their way out on the biggest limb of the tree, seeking the Holy Grail of womanhood; they were richly rewarded.

Patty Disbro lay beneath them. She was wearing the thong all right, but nothing else. She had no top on.

"Oh my, look at those melons," sighed Larry.

"I wonder if she's a cherry," asked Beetle.

"Look at that banana she's eating," exclaimed Stuffer.

Larry sometimes wondered about the Stuffer.

He didn't have long to wonder though. The combined weight of the three boys was proving to be too much for the old tree. There was an ominous cracking sound and the boys felt the limb start to give way.

"Hold on mates," yelled Larry as the limb parted from the tree with a snap, and landed at the very feet of Patty Disbro.

"Lo Patty, watcha doing," said Larry beaming.

Surprisingly, Patty just sat there, eyeing them curiously, not bothering to cover herself up.

"Hello boys, didn't know you would be dropping in," she said laughing.

"Patty, what was that noise, what's going on?" came a voice from the garage.

Patty quickly covered herself and said, "It's my Mum you've got to get out of here."

"Patty, what is...?" Mrs. Disbro started to say as she came around the side of the garage.

"Run," Patty yelled.

"You!" Mrs. Disbro yelled when she spied Larry and his mates. "This is the last straw. I'm calling the law on you Porter; I know you're the ringleader."

The boys, needing no further encouragement, climbed up over the fence and ran as fast as they could to their respective homes.

Larry ran into the house, completely out of breath.

"What's the matter, Larry?" someone after you, asked little Herbert.

"Sod off twinkie," yelled Larry as he ran up to his room.

Larry lay on his bed for the remainder of the day. It had been a fun day; he couldn't get the image of Patty Disbro's orbs out of his mind. Mmmmmm... he thought to himself. He was just about to doze off when there came a loud pounding at the front door downstairs. He quickly got out of bed and crept down the hallway to see who it was that came visiting at this time of night. He heard several loud voices from down below; he inched closer to the stairs so that he could hear what was being said.

"We've had it with that boy, something has to be done with him," said Mr. Brown.

"If you won't see to him then we will take matters into our own hands," yelled Mr. Disbro.

"Now, now, there'll be none of that," said Constable Beaufort, who had accompanied the other two men to the Pusswillow home. "The law will handle things."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. You don't know how difficult he is to control. In fact, there is no controlling him. We are at our wits end," pleaded Uncle Hubert.

"Can't you throw him in jail?" asked Mr. Disbro angrily. "He saw my daughter's unclothed bosom, I want something done!"

"Can't you send him away to some kind of school?" asked Mr. Brown.

This was the cue that Larry needed, sticking his head around the corner of the stairwell; he asked in his politest voice, "Well, Aunt Bessie, Uncle Hubert, are you ready to help me pack for Hogwarts?"