Chapter 1 (Hyperion)
Chapter 2 (Dragon)
Chapter 3 (Biff Spiffy)
Chapter 4 (Schrodinger's Kitten)
Chapter 5 (Lady Jane Scarlett)
Chapter 6 (Dominique)
Chapter 7 (Tobias the River Midget)
So I couldn't help notice that the Haunted Monkey Barn story sort of stalled last week. What you non-monkeys don't know is that Hyperion sent out a sniveling email last Friday complaining about how much he was hurting and begging for someone to finish it. (Like we don't have anything better to do.) Trust me: I used to live with this guy: he never stops complaining about the littlest thing. Like walking is that big a deal. (Or standing up right. What a whiner!)
Anyway, since none of the Barn bailed him out clearly it was up to me. First off I had to read the previous chapters, which were awesome!
In Chapter 1 Hyperion introduced us to the Haunted Monkey Barn, where the students of Hogwarts were going to be spending their Spring Break. Donald Duck showed up (for realz!), Pansy wasn't a pansy, and Minerva and Draco sitting in a tree, F-E-T-I-S-H-I-Z-I-N-G!
In Chapter 2 birds of a "feather" flocked together (though some of them couldn't talk right), and Pansy and Minerva were wrapped up like douches. (Re-read the chapter; my joke will slay you.)
In Chapter 3, we were treated to the immortal flatulence of a thousand trolls (and a very sick hippo), Draco discovered an extra set from The Princess Bride and Hermione admired dead boobs and then tried out for apart in The Wiz.
In Chapter 4, we learned of Voldemonkey, who clearly had been hanging around with hard-core gamers, Draco went from prankster to spankster, and a plan was hatched.
In Chapter 5 we learned that Snape was definitely evil (unless he wants; these things often cut both ways), and that Hermione and Luna liked to fight over Lollypops.
And in Chapter 6 we learned that Harry wouldn't know an orgy if it bit him like a lollypop, and Hagrid had a brother.
Now, let's finish this shit.
HARRY POTTER AND THE HAUNTED MONKEY BARN
Chapter 7 – All's Well that Ends
(by Tobias the River Midget, Hogwarts Class of '05; "We'll Hufflepuff your house down!")
Everyone looked at Hagrid and Hyperion, who began kissing in a slobbery fashion. "Gross!" said Ron, feelingly. "I had no idea you were a poofter, Hagrid."
"'At's untrue, 'on!" Hagrid said, continuing his assault on first letters of words (or his ongoing quest to bring Cockney to Wizarding; no one was sure which). "Hyperion and I have one rule…."
Together they both recited, "Never in the butt!"
Hyperion added helpfully, "We may be semi-incestuous giants with a love for all things Judy Garland, but we're not freaks!"
"'eah!" Hagrid added fervently." "'hat 'oo 'ake us 'or, 'yan 'dams?"
Hyperion translated: "What'd you take us for, Ryan Adams?"
Just then Snape showed up, with that villainous look that only he (and possibly Alan Rickman) could pull off.
"If you want to survive Lord Voldemonkey, I suggest you do exactly as I say."
"I thought you were bad!" Hermione squeaked.
Snape raised one eyebrow comically and intoned, "That's the thing about me; everything I say is open to multiple interpretations."
Everyone looked around, not sure what to do, until Luna pointed out helpfully, "At least he's not Ryan Adams." With that sobering thought, they all decided to trust Snape; for now. Worst case scenario, they could always go back in time and re-cast his part with Dustin Diamond.
Snape explained how they were to defeat the foul-smelling Lord. "To attempt to smell him directly is too dangerous. We must fight fire with fire. Therefore, I have made up a potion which will allow you to strike back. The potion contains the following ingredients: 10 cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, ten pounds of huevos rancheros, 10 pounds of Oreos, ten pounds of baked beans cooked in Jack Daniels' sauce, ten pounds of cauliflower soaked in cheese whiz, ten pounds of 'extra hot' hot wings, ten pounds of curried lamb and ten pounds of boiled cabbage."
Most of the group started getting sick just thinking about what the potion was going to taste like, let alone produce. Hagrid and Hyperion looked at each other, the same thought passing through each of their minds: Thank God we're not like Ryan Adams.
Persnicketedly Hermione pointed out, "This won't work for the girls because everyone knows that girls don't pass gas."
Snape raised that eyebrow again. "I assure you, Miss Granger, that the stinking foul mess that emanates from girls' backsides is no worse than what comes out from their fronts."
Everyone—even Draco—looked utterly aghast that Snape would make such a remark. Professor MacGonagall rose up to make a withering reply, then remembered she'd died several chapters ago and faded away. Finally Snape clarified, in that inimitable Snape-like way: "I was talking, of course, about the meaningless and in this case time-consuming and possibly life-dooming prattle that you ladies feel the need to spew out of your mouths nonstop."
The girls walked out red-faced and Hagrid asked Harry what Snape had said. When Harry repeated it Hagrid said, "'o, 'not the 'unny 'uice, then?"
After that it was all over but the final battle. I'd tell you more about it, but that would defeat the purpose of not telling you. Know only that everyone who was supposed to die died, everyone who was supposed to live lived, everyone who was supposed to get beaten got beaten, and it all came out well in the end.
If you know what I mean….
|What color is your soul painted? |
Your soul is painted the color blue, which embodies the characteristics of peace, patience, understanding, health, tranquility, protection, spiritual awareness, unity, harmony, calmness, coolness, confidence, dependability, loyalty, idealism, tackiness, and wisdom. Blue is the color of the element Water, and is symbolic of the ocean, sleep, twilight, and the sky.
Quizzes and Personality Tests
In the distance, a resident approaches. It is Mrs. P., who has been living on the dementia unit's third floor for 3 years now. She has long forgotten her family, even though they visit her almost daily. Moderately disheveled after eating her lunch, half of which she now wears on her shirt, Mrs. P. is taking one of her many aimless strolls to nowhere. She glides toward Oscar, pushing her walker and muttering to herself with complete disregard for her surroundings. Perturbed, Oscar watches her carefully and, as she walks by, lets out a gentle hiss, a rattlesnake-like warning that says "leave me alone." She passes him without a glance and continues down the hallway. Oscar is relieved. It is not yet Mrs. P.'s time, and he wants nothing to do with her.
Oscar jumps down off the desk, relieved to be once more alone and in control of his domain. He takes a few moments to drink from his water bowl and grab a quick bite. Satisfied, he enjoys another stretch and sets out on his rounds. Oscar decides to head down the west wing first, along the way sidestepping Mr. S., who is slumped over on a couch in the hallway. With lips slightly pursed, he snores peacefully — perhaps blissfully unaware of where he is now living. Oscar continues down the hallway until he reaches its end and Room 310. The door is closed, so Oscar sits and waits. He has important business here.
Oscar takes no notice of the woman and leaps up onto the bed. He surveys Mrs. T. She is clearly in the terminal phase of illness, and her breathing is labored. Oscar's examination is interrupted by a nurse, who walks in to ask the daughter whether Mrs. T. is uncomfortable and needs more morphine. The daughter shakes her head, and the nurse retreats. Oscar returns to his work. He sniffs the air, gives Mrs. T. one final look, then jumps off the bed and quickly leaves the room. Not today.
Making his way back up the hallway, Oscar arrives at Room 313. The door is open, and he proceeds inside. Mrs. K. is resting peacefully in her bed, her breathing steady but shallow. She is surrounded by photographs of her grandchildren and one from her wedding day. Despite these keepsakes, she is alone. Oscar jumps onto her bed and again sniffs the air. He pauses to consider the situation, and then turns around twice before curling up beside Mrs. K.
One hour passes. Oscar waits. A nurse walks into the room to check on her patient. She pauses to note Oscar's presence. Concerned, she hurriedly leaves the room and returns to her desk. She grabs Mrs. K.'s chart off the medical-records rack and begins to make phone calls.
Within a half hour the family starts to arrive. Chairs are brought into the room, where the relatives begin their vigil. The priest is called to deliver last rites. And still, Oscar has not budged, instead purring and gently nuzzling Mrs. K. A young grandson asks his mother, "What is the cat doing here?" The mother, fighting back tears, tells him, "He is here to help Grandma get to heaven." Thirty minutes later, Mrs. K. takes her last earthly breath. With this, Oscar sits up, looks around, then departs the room so quietly that the grieving family barely notices.
On his way back to the charting area, Oscar passes a plaque mounted on the wall. On it is engraved a commendation from a local hospice agency: "For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat." Oscar takes a quick drink of water and returns to his desk to curl up for a long rest. His day's work is done. There will be no more deaths today, not in Room 310 or in any other room for that matter. After all, no one dies on the third floor unless Oscar pays a visit and stays awhile.Note: Since he was adopted by staff members as a kitten, Oscar the Cat has had an uncanny ability to predict when residents are about to die. Thus far, he has presided over the deaths of more than 25 residents on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island. His mere presence at the bedside is viewed by physicians and nursing home staff as an almost absolute indicator of impending death, allowing staff members to adequately notify families. Oscar has also provided companionship to those who would otherwise have died alone. For his work, he is highly regarded by the physicians and staff at Steere House and by the families of the residents whom he serves.
One thing you have to credit FOX: they know how to promote their shows. Quality may be tough to come by some times, but the previews are exciting, and you know when it starts. Double that for cable-brother FX. If you watched the network at all this year, you would not be able to avoid their three new shows: Dirt, The Riches and Damages. Dirt was uneven to bad. The Riches was a neat little dark gem. That leaves Damages, which debuted last night.
Kaida and I were talking about the buzz around Damages, which stars Glen Close. Kaida opined: "That woman could go to the bathroom and people would applaud." (I threatened to tell people she wanted to watch Glen Close pee, but then relented.)
The point is, everyone knows with Glen Close you're getting ball-busting awesomeness. I'm not sure she can play any other type. (I'm not sure I'd want her to.) Close is powerful New York litigator Patty Hewes, a character that embodies every cliché of a high-priced lawyer you've ever seen, but somehow makes it her own. That's really the beauty of Close, taking a character you'd think would be fairly straightforward and yet somehow making her fresh.
The main character in Damages, though, is Rose Byrne. I have been high on this girl since TROY. I even liked her in WICKER PARK. Physically she's gorgeous, like a muted Jessica Alba. However, Alba can't act like Byrne. This girl can bring it. What I like about her the most is that the big emotion is played with her eyes. She doesn't have to do much for you to watch her, wondering what she's thinking. Byrne's character (hotshot lawyer Ellen Parsons) is the same way.
Okay, so what the heck is going on with this show and why should you watch it? Well, I'm refusing to tell you anything. This is because, like other FX alumni that came before it, Damages is 100 gallons of awesome in a 50-gallon drum. The opening seconds are done differently than I'd expect. The opening scene is quite a bit different too, as far as resolution by the end goes. It's one of those "start at the end go back to the beginning" openings, except they never get back to the end. In fact, I'd wager it will take the entire season to get back to that very first scene. How cool is that?
Damages also features some stellar supporting work. Ted Danson seems to be loving life as a Ken Lay-esque tycoon who sold his employees up the river while he got rich. Tate Donovan does his thing, as does Hall of Fame "that guy" Zeljko Ivanek. (You know; people you could NEVER name but every time they show up you're like, "Oh, THAT guy! I love him!")
Damages impressed the heck out of me, enough that I am totally excited for next week, and I forgave them the one lame plot contrivance added for drama. (When you're watching, ask yourself this: would detectives in a home that might have a murderer leave one room un-checked before they started their investigation?)
It's a quibble. If you get the chance, check out the encores and jump in to what may be the best show of the summer. (Wednesday at 11:00 pm, Thursday at 7:00 pm, Saturday at 12:15 am and 4:00 pm, Sunday at 10:00 pm, Monday at 11:00 pm.)
The paper called Holly Hunter's character Grace a "promiscuous pill-popping alcoholic," (otherwise known as using, boozing and coozing), which made me curious. Holly Hunter is fantastic in anything, and the possibility that she might get naked (well, TNT naked) was an appeal.
But the previews were playing up the "salvation" angle, which made me worry we'd be looking at "Touched by a Holly Hunter." And while normally that'd be great, well, you know what I mean.
Saving Grace doesn't tread on a whole lot of new ground. Hunter plays Oklahoma City detective Grace Hanadarko, who is all the things mentioned above and then some. (She is naked for the first six minutes or so, but you'd probably have to watch in slo-mo to see more than side boobage. Still....) Grace's unrefined ways lead her to a drunken car accident where she kills someone. (I realize it seems like I'm giving a lot away, but A; I want you to watch and B; I'm really not.)
About to lose her job and freedom, Grace calls out to God in desperation and low and behold: an angel shows up. His name is Earl. We already know he's an angel, because he's been watching her for a while, and we can see his wings reflect in car windows. (Sort of a reverse-vampire thing, if you think about it.)
Earl is played by the immortal Leon Rippy, and is one of those no-nonsense angels who would tell Grace she's full of shit (his words, not mine), and chew tobacco. Is this just the way Earl is, a slight to Oklahoma, or the only way someone like Grace would even consider listening? Who knows? (Who cares?)
Like I said, Saving Grace isn't going out of its way to play the auteur card, but there were some intriguing angles in what is likely to be a character-driven procedural (like House or The Closer). First, setting the show in OKC was a nice touch, especially as the Oklahoma City bombing hovers over everything. People might think "that happened 12 years ago; haven't they gotten over it?"
They haven't. Go through the memorial, and look around that downtown area. Without the money and attention of the World Trade Center, much of what was destroyed still lies in ruins. (Might that event have something to do with Grace's hard-living ways? Hmmmm….)
There are other twists that I won't reveal in case you watch. All in all, Saving Grace looks like it is worth a watch for those who like decent characters and are looking for a good way to end their Monday nights. There is an encore Thursday at 11:00 PM EDT, or you can watch the pilot anytime on streaming video at http://www.tnt.tv/.
Johnny calls me "da man!" That puts me at ease. It makes me feel comfortable, because I am Black and that's how Black folks talk to one another.
Johnny isn't afraid to show he has a black friend because whenever he sees me in the hall he asks me Waaaazzzuup.
-After saying a multisyllabic word such as "understand," Johnny will often follow it with a translation for my benefit like "Dig?" I am glad that he makes his big words accessible to me.
I like Johnny and Sally because they NEVER flaunt their wealth in front of me. In fact, they go to great lengths to keep their valuables as well as their wallets and purses as far away from me as possible. How cool is THAT???
Harry Potter and the Haunted Monkey Barn.
Harry Potter stepped off the Hogwarts express gingerly, stretching his legs with his House Gryffindor compatriots. Up and down the train, others were doing the same,
A Spring Break spent searching the moldy corners of the Haunted Monkey Barn might not be anyone's first choice, but when you consider the other two choices (Euro Disney and Paris Hilton's urinary tract), nobody was complaining.
Well, almost nobody.
"I don't see why we have to spend our time in some sodding barn!" Draco Malfoy said spiritedly. "My father booked an entire floor at the Mandalay in Vegas. Why couldn't we have gone there?"
Other students chimed in too, until Professor McGonagall swooped in, glaring at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, that will be quite enough out of you!" Draco started protesting but professor McGonagall was having none of it, and dragged the yelping boy off.
"Of all the Minerve!" Pansy Parkinson said, preening as the others congratulated her on the fine pun. Fun was short-lived, however, as Professor Sprout and Professor Snape herded the students onto invisible John Deere tractors (visible only to those who had cut grass or stepped in cow pies) and on to the Haunted Monkey Barn.
According to their itinerary, the students were all supposed to meet in the Foyer. "How do we know we are in the foyer?" Ron asked.
Hermione pointed. "I think that's our clue."
Everyone just looked at her dumbly, and Hermione ground her teeth.
Once inside the Barn the students were met by a curator. The man was completely normal except for the fact that he wore no pants and spoke with a speech impediment.
And was a duck.
"If it were not for the speech impediment, the lack of trousers and the undeniable "fowl" appearance to him our guide would look quite normal indeed." Said Hermione Granger, grinning at her own pun. When no one offered praise as they had for Pansy Hermione grumbled under her breath, "Stupid Bitch. I wish her name was Pansy Chlamydia!" This gave Hermione an idea.
Meanwhile Ron and Harry were taking bets on what sort of punishment Professor McGonagall was giving out to Draco.
"I bet it's a spanking!" Dean Seamus said wiggling his eyebrows.
"Yeah, she could paddle him with that Quidditch broom he's so bloody proud of!" Lee Jordan chimed in.
Neville Longbottom had his own take: "I hope the professor takes that Malfoy by his Ж€£¥¥%¿µ and makes him ؤست£إ¶#&* her #^¢¤¤§® ¡جنص‡."
No one really had an answer for that.
The truth was soon to be revealed, as the students soon became tired of hearing the duck go on and on about "Whatever you do, beware the evil Lord Voldemonkey" and went off to explore. They came upon a door and heard cries from within. Wand at the ready, Harry pulled open the door and gaped with astonishment as he saw professor McGonagall and Draco Malfoy right dab in the middle of…..
Join us tomorrow for Chapter 2!