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Gay Philopsher's Potter and the Harry Stone. By J.K. Rowling...jk by [JK Rowling backwards]
Chahahapter 1-2-1 The boy who lived to ***.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four BZZZZ hive were normal and gay.
Thank you. THANK YOU. THANKKK YOOOUU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!
They were the last strange people you'd expect to be involved in anything gay or mysterious.
Lalalalala
Because they just didn't hold with such ***.
Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called POT rummings, which made drugs.
He was a big, beefy man with hardly any beef.
Although he did have a very large *** ***.
Mrs. Dursley was beefy and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of mustache.
Which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time *** over garden fences and *** the neighbor's son.
The Dursleys had a beefy and stupid son callec Duhhh.
And in their opinion, there was no stupider son anywhere.
The Dursleys had everything they won, but they also had a secret.
And their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.
They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the gay Potters.
Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Anyone's sister, but they hadn't met for OVER 9000 years!
In fact, Mrs. Dursely was as gay as it was possible to be because her gay sister and her nothing for good husband were as un *** as it was possible to be.
The Dursleys shuttered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters *** in the street.
The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son too, but they had never seen him.
This wizard boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away.
They didn't want Duhhh *** with a child like that.
When the Dursleys woke up on the dull, gray, yay Tuesday, our story starts.
There was nothing about the *** sky outside that suggested that strange and gay things would soon be happening all over the country.
Mr. Dursley cummed all over Mrs. Dursley's *** as he picked out his most boring, dull, gary tie for gossip.
And Mrs. Dursley worked away happily as she *** a screaming Dudley.
None of them noticed a large *** owl flutter past eight at half past the window.
Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, fleauked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Duhhh goodbye but missed beacuse Duhhh was now having a tantrum and throwing his *** on the walls.
Huha huha huha huha! Little tyke, chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house.
He backed out of his car and woke up and got into number four's drive.
It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something gay.
A cat jerking a map to a cat *** as he kissed a child.
For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen.
He *** his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privit Drive.
But there wasn't a child in sight!
What could he have been thinking of!?! It must have been a trick of the light.
Mr. Dursley flicked off and stared at the cat.
It stared back. As Mr. DUrsley drove up the corner and around the road, he watched the cat in his mirror.
It was now *** the sign that said Privit Drive.
No, look at the sign. Cats couldn't *** maps or signs!
Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind.
As he drove towards town, he thought of drills except a large order of nothing he was hoping to get that day.
But at the edge of town, drugs were driven out of his mind by something else.
As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing there were a lot of gayly dressed people about.
People BEEF!
Mr. Dursley cound't *** people who dressed in clothes.
The getupsy sore of young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
[Death Metal Drum Solo Plays...]
And his eyes fell on a huddle of these gay weirdos standing quite close by.
They were *** excitedly together.
Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all!
Why that man had to be older than he was! And wearing and emrald green ***?
No! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt.
These people were obviously connecting or something. Yes. That would be it.
The traffic moved on, and a few mintues later, Mr. Dursley arrived at the Grumming's car park.
His mind back on drugs. Mr. Dursley always sat with his *** to the window on the night before.
If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on *** that morning.
He didn't see the owls gay *** in broad daylight.
Though people down in the street did. They pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.
Most of them had never seen and owl ***! Even at nighttime!
Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfeclty normal owl-free morning.
He yelled stupid gay *** at five different people.
He made several unimportant telephone calls, shouting a bit more.
He was in a very good mood until lunch time, when he thought he'd swoak is legs and stretch across the road...
...and buy himself *** as if he wanted to say something to them.
But he thought better of it.
He hurried back across the road, dashed up to his office, seized his secretary to his office, seized his telephone, and had almost started *** his hoe...when he changed his mind.
He put his secrectary back down and stroked his hairy *** thinking...
...no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name.
He was sure there were lots of people straight people called Potter who had a gay son called Harry.
Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was gay!
He had never even seen the boy. It might have been Havard, or Huhahgka.
There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley. She would have got so upset at any mention of her mustache.
He didn't blame her if he'd had a mustache like that. But all the same...
...those people...swoosh! He found harder *** that afternoon.
And when he left the building at five o' clock, he was still so worried that he walked his most hard *** into someone just outside the door.
Oh sorry, he grunted. Dumbledore fell and almost fell.
It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing nothing.
He didn't seem at all upset, being almost *** up. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile, and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers by stare:
"Oh Dumbledore! Sorry my dear sir, but nothing could upset me today! Rejoice for you-know-who has gone! At last! Even muggles like themselves should be celebrating this happy, happy day!"
And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Mr. Dursley was in a very good mood.
He seized Dumbledore's very hard *** open-mouthed and agh agh agh agh agh agh ooh ohh ohh!
People down in the street they pointed and gazed. J.K. Rowling and Mrs. Dursley pointed.
As Dumbledore cumed all over Mr. Dursley and the street.
Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had *** a complete stranger!
He also thought he had been called a...muggle moogle woogal. Whatever that was.
He was rattled, he hurried to his car, and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped for before because he did not approve of IMAGINATION (Spongebob Voice)
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw which didn't improve his mood, was the tabby cat he had spotted this morning.
It was now *** on his garden wall.
He was sure it was the same one.
It had the same eyes around its eyes.
SHHHOOOO! Said Mr. Dursley, loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a normal look.
Was this stern cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered.
Trying to pull himself into the house, he was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.