by Quicksilver » Thursday 29 August 2002 6:56:58pm
It’s the summer of Harry’s sixth year and Voldemorts at his wits end trying to come up with way’s of getting rid of harry Potter. He’s considering just leaving the kid alone (The horrors!) until Wormtail gets a whole lot of junk mail and he gets an idea. An awful idea. An incredibly terrible evil awful idea.
HARRY POTTER AND THE DERANGED TELEMARKETERS FROM HELL
Harry was walking back up to his tiny bedroom when the phone rang. As noone caable of intelligent speech was at home, (Dudley was drooling in front of the TV) Harry answered it.
“Hello? Dursleys residence?”
“Hello sir, we’re calling to inform you about the new toe twister 340! This incredible machine..”
“No thanks.” Said Harry dully, hanging up. He had hoped it would be a call from Hermione, she had promised she would call ina letter she had written. She said letters just didn't have the smae 'friendly contact as a phone'. He had just turned around when it rang again. He lifted it; perhaps this was Hermione.
“Hello, Mrs. Dussel? We’ve realized that your subscription for ‘Gormet Goulash’ has been discontinued, to resubscribe, press..”
Harry hung up annoyed. Hermione had said she would call at 3:00. It was definetly 3:00. As the phone rang for a third time, he quickly lited the receiver tentitivly to his ear.
“Hello? Hermione?”
“Good afternoon Mr. Dursley! We’re calling to give you the latest information on today’s high tech pens enlarger.Please your wife and never be afraid to shower in the public rooms again! For more information..”
Harry slammed the phone down in horror. He didn’t know they sold that sort of stuff over the phone. He was tempted to just leave the next person waiting on the phone, but it might be Hermione and he didn’t want to miss her. If she called when the Dursleys were home…..
The phone rang and Harry picked it up with two fingers, hoping to Merlin that it wasn’t another dreaded telemarketer.
“Good morning sir, we’ve received many complaints over the past few years about this certain product that you have never heard of..”
An hour later, Harry had just hung up the phone for the 104th time. Large tufts of his hair were pulled out with aggrevation. His eyes darted about in a frightening manner, he kept imagining telemarketers jumping out from behind the big potted plant next to the phone; actually, if he squinted, it actually looked like a telemarketer. And if he took off his glasses and squinted hard, he could just make out hundreds of telemarketers with the Dursleys name on top of all their lists. The phone began to ring, and Harry jumped, brandishing a pencil in front of himlike a deadly weapon. He let it ring five times before he gathered the nerve to pick up the phone. “Yes?” he asked.
“Congratulations! You’ve just won a surprise trip for four to the all new..”
Harry tensed up at that all to farmiliar sound of recorded voices and the obviously forced cheerfulness of a person with too many work hours and too few coffee cups. He threw it back down with terror, and drew a squiggly line next to the 104 others he had begun to draw on the wall.
“The Dursleys won’t be happy.’ He babbled. “Happiness? That’s what that Mexican marketer was selling, was she speaking English? I couldn’t remember.”
If anyone looked into Harry’s window at that moment they would hve seen the Boy Who lived babbling continuosly aboiut telemarketers, curled on the floor like a cmental patient.
“And there was that guy who was selling himself. Cardboard Carl!”
Ring Ring!
Harry froze. “The enemy.” He muttered.
Ring Ring! He slowly began to stalk the phone, grinning maniacly, a knife clutched in his hand. He giggled and picked up the phone. “Hello?” he half shrieked in hysteria “Dursleys residence!”
“Hello sir? I’m…”
“AAAAAIIIIEEEE!!!!!! DERANGED TELEMARKETER FROM HELL!!!!!”
Harry, in his insanity over the telemarketers stabbed himself throught the heart. He lie on the gound muttering “Hahaha, no telemarketers in heaven! No siree, god wouldn’t alow it, unless he really is in league with those credit angels, do you think?”
As he passed out, the voice on the other end continued. “Harry? Oh I’m sorry, I thought you were your uncle! It’s me, Hermione. Harry?
Harry?”
Somewhere off in the distance Voldemort laughed. His task was complete.