Captain Winky and the Presidential Game

Draco Malfoy was an idjitt. A very hygienic idjitt, but an idjitt nonetheless. That’s why Ronald Weasley had to kill him, you see: he was too idjiotic, too hygienic, and too damn BLOND. (Ron actually liked to think of Draco as BLONDE, but we won’t get into that). But the reason that prevailed above all others in our luminescent-headed hero’s for the Murderment of Draco Malfoy was very simple.

He was dating Ginny.

“This fic is going nowhere good,” said Ginny, appearing from line six. “I’m not very fond of Malfoy, but I’m even less fond of my dear brother. What EVER am I to do?”

“That’s obvious. Shut the hell up and let me do the talking,” retorted her less-than-amiable brother. “For I am the luminescent-headed hero!”

“Shoot,” replied Ginny, and swivelled in her chair. “My hair is purple.”

At this, both of the mildly attractive males in front of her stared and thwapped her on the head.

“You’re insulting my hair, to put it plainly,” said Holly, who is not Ginny, but is metaphorically speaking.

“Er, yes,” replied Ashlin curtly, who was no one in particular up to that point. “I quit,” announced Ginny, rising from her chair and (yes, you guessed it), disappeared in a puff of purple smoke back into line six.

“Some of my best work,” muttered Holly from behind the curtains.

“Oh, but it was entirely my idea!” snapped Ashlin.

“I won’t have anyone to screw tonight!” wailed Draco, and he quickly received a kick in the hows-your-father by both Ron and Ash.

“Owee,” said Draco’s hows-your-father, or Captain Winky, as he liked to call it.

Ashlin watched in grim satisfaction as Captain Winky fainted, but the smile was quickly wiped off her face when he barfed.

“Ew, now it’s probably all limp,” said Ron, who almost imploded when he realized he had said that out loud.

“Yep, we all most definitely needed to hear that,” said Holly.

“Now my head is filled to the brim of my pointy hat with bad mental images, you dweeb!” said Ashlin. She took a step towards Draco’s pants for a closer look.

“Hi!” said Captain Winky, who still plainly thought that he had some sort of appeal.

“We don’t need to hear it, cap’n,” said Holly, trying hard not to vomit herself. Although, you know, she wouldn’t vomit sperm.

“Oooh! Sperm!” said Ron, who was very gay and very imploded. “It tastes strangely sweet, you know, like lemonade-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” roared Dumbledork, who had burst in from the lingering puff of purple smoke. “I do NOT think Mr Malfoy would be too pleased if he were to know of our Saturday afternoon trysts, Mr Weasley. Ten points to Gryffindor for your valiant luminescent-headed swallowing, though!”

Holly did not need to hear that, and doubted very much that Ashlin did either.

“This is going nowhere,” said Seamus Finnegan from the ceiling, whose trysting sessions with Dumbledork were Thursday mornings, thank you very much.

“ON TEH FLOORNESS!” screeched Ashlin, who felt she was being raped. Or ignored. Either one, really.

“Funny how they’re so much the same,” mused Holly, who had dropped to the floor at Ashlin’s warning. Good thing, too, for an eggplant of significant size was swinging by at that time. It caught Dumbledork, Draco, Ron and the unfortunate puff of purple smoke and threw them across the Atlantic Ocean. And believe me, they were mighty surprised to end up in Times Square.

“I’m on tour with U2!” said George Bush, who was, indeed, on tour with U2. And a half.

“We don’t like you, you wet monkey,” said Bono. Bush whimpered.

“Bloody ell,” said Ron. “The ugly man in the brown suit sounds like a shrubbery!” And with that, the man in the brown suit who so resembled a monkey gave up his presidency to Oprah Winfrey, who soon gave it up to Dr. Phil, who soon gave it up to Mickey Mouse, who ruled peacefully until his assassination in 2012. But that isn’t part of the story.

Ron, Dumbledork, Draco, Captain Winky and Dubya all stared at the ground with looks of intense fascination. “Ah think it’s movin’,” said Dubya.

Of course, it was, because Holly and Ashlin were drilling up through it. As the Authors, they couldn’t leave their storyline!

“AUGH! It’s burning my eyes! Kill it, Kill it!!!” screamed Ashlin, covering her seeing devices. Dubya looked insulted, And Captain Winky thought he might get in while her guard was down.

“I say there, monstrosity!” said Holly, pointing in the general direction of the ex-president of the Unayted Staytes of Amehrica, “Do you know the times?”

“Uh, no,” he said with the obligatory stupidity.

“But I was so sure you would!” said Holly with the obligatory sarcasm.

“Can we get on with this?” said Ashlin with the obligatory obligatoriness.

“Naw, we can’t,” said Dubya, “cuz my feet are stuck in a potted plant.”

“A potted nuclear plant, I hope,” said Holly ‘AMUSEDLY‘.

“Nuclelear?” said Dubya.

Ashlin had to kill him. You understand, I hope. He was just so dangblasted annoying that he could no longer exist in her field of vision. So Ashlin kicked HIS Captain Winky so hard that was driven into his colon and he digested it. Which is, of course, why he died.

“I’m feeling unoriginal today,” said Holly, completely ignoring the bum in front of her who happened to have his genitals stuffed up his digestive track.

“Ouch!” said the genitals.

THE END