(no subject)
I am convinced that the world is dwindling down to a slow, anticlimactic end. Truthfully, I have been convinced of this for years, but as each new class descends upon Hogwarts, I am given even more proof. When I look at most of these children, I think, Well, Sylvia, this is your future. The future of the wizarding world is in their hands. And that's all the proof one needs, really, that the end is nigh.
Though the world may have started with the Big Bang, it's surely going to end with a Small Squeak. I doubt it will even have the courtesy to be sucked into a black hole.
Another hint that the apocalypse is coming - last night I spotted Minerva "Minnie" McGonagall getting tea at three a.m. Her hair was down. This is something no one should ever have to see, for if you did, you would see that all those years of severe buns have made her hair thin quite a bit. It was like walking in on a hag offering to sell me childe-toes for 13 sickles an ounce, when everyone knows you should never pay more than 10. Minerva, of course, lectured me for being out of bed for about ten minutes before she realised that I wasn't a student. It happens often to me. I suppose that's the price of taking the care to keep up my girlish figure.
I do wish some of the students would at least pretend to have some sort of pride in their appearance. Ms. Parkinson looks as though she bathes with the Giant Squid. It's the only explanation I can come with for all of the squid ink she surely lathers on each morning. It also explains the smell.
Ms. Bones would do well to stop typing in all lowercase letters before someone's head rips open. I have reprimanded her for this in the past, and yet, with her loyal, hard-working mind, she somehow forgot within a sentence's time. I'll have to take two points from Hufflepuff for the horrific display of stereotypical stupidity.
Severus has a charming new purple spot on his wrist. At first glance, I thought, perhaps, he had moved his Dark Mark to a more convenient location, so as to complain about it more readily. However, I then realised that the sixth-year Gryffindors as a whole were also drenched in purple, and Neville Longbottom entered my thoughts fondly. I never fail to be amused by the shenanigans going on in Severus's classes. Who knew he was such a party animal?
As for the report on hootenannies erupting in my Astronomy Tower, I spotted a rather red-faced Hufflepuff escaping it early last evening, zipping his trousers and mumbling something about his broom. I waited, of course, for someone to follow, but no one ever did. And they call Hufflepuffs loyal.
Though the world may have started with the Big Bang, it's surely going to end with a Small Squeak. I doubt it will even have the courtesy to be sucked into a black hole.
Another hint that the apocalypse is coming - last night I spotted Minerva "Minnie" McGonagall getting tea at three a.m. Her hair was down. This is something no one should ever have to see, for if you did, you would see that all those years of severe buns have made her hair thin quite a bit. It was like walking in on a hag offering to sell me childe-toes for 13 sickles an ounce, when everyone knows you should never pay more than 10. Minerva, of course, lectured me for being out of bed for about ten minutes before she realised that I wasn't a student. It happens often to me. I suppose that's the price of taking the care to keep up my girlish figure.
I do wish some of the students would at least pretend to have some sort of pride in their appearance. Ms. Parkinson looks as though she bathes with the Giant Squid. It's the only explanation I can come with for all of the squid ink she surely lathers on each morning. It also explains the smell.
Ms. Bones would do well to stop typing in all lowercase letters before someone's head rips open. I have reprimanded her for this in the past, and yet, with her loyal, hard-working mind, she somehow forgot within a sentence's time. I'll have to take two points from Hufflepuff for the horrific display of stereotypical stupidity.
Severus has a charming new purple spot on his wrist. At first glance, I thought, perhaps, he had moved his Dark Mark to a more convenient location, so as to complain about it more readily. However, I then realised that the sixth-year Gryffindors as a whole were also drenched in purple, and Neville Longbottom entered my thoughts fondly. I never fail to be amused by the shenanigans going on in Severus's classes. Who knew he was such a party animal?
As for the report on hootenannies erupting in my Astronomy Tower, I spotted a rather red-faced Hufflepuff escaping it early last evening, zipping his trousers and mumbling something about his broom. I waited, of course, for someone to follow, but no one ever did. And they call Hufflepuffs loyal.