national lampoon

Your Friendly Reminder That My Sister Should Write For National Lampoon.

It was the morning of July 31st. Harry’s sweet sixteen. He woke with a start. Hiccupping madly, he made his way downstairs. Nothing could dampen his spirits. Not even the severe case of Ebola he had contracted the night before.

           "Happy birthday to me!“ Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. He chopped down the kitchen door and ran to lick Dudley, infecting him with Ebola immediately.

           At that very moment, Dumbledore burst through the door, his hand ablaze. "Harry, you must come with me! I’ve been hunting horcruxes, and now my hand is cursed,” he stated in response to Harry’s questioning look. Dumbledore grabbed Harry’s arm and apparated a second before Uncle Vernon was able to hit them over the head with a vacuum cleaner.

           They landed in the middle of a rundown neighborhood. Most of the houses were made of cardboard and plastic. “Now Harry, I need your help recruiting a new Potions teacher,” Dumbledore explained. “And since you played the lead in The Sound of Music last year, I feel you’re up to the task. We are to be disguised as salesmen. I printed out these nametags to make us look more professional,” he said, pinning a laminated tag upside down on Harry’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he said.

           Harry followed Dumbledore, kicking down houses as he went. They came to a stop in front of the dirtiest, grimiest house yet. Dum-Dog rang the doorbell and a horridly obese man answered. Adopting a southern drawl, Dumbledore began his salespitch, involving three pairs of rollerblades, a jar of pickles, and the entire collection of Chosen One products all in exchange for the fat man to teach at Hogwarts. He, of course, agreed to these terms and Harry and Dumbly left in high spirits.

           They then apparated to the Weasley’s where Harry’s best frenemie Ron, lived. “Harry, I want you to listen to me,” said Dumbledore serenely, waving his burning hand in front of Harry’s face. “This curse is going to kill me. But for the sake of making my life more dramatic, when the time comes, Snape will kill me instead. LOL. So, don’t be angry.”

           Harry spat violently on Dumbledore’s feet. “Whatevs old man. I have to go see Ginny. I hear she’s pretty hot this year.”

           Harry turned and ran up to the Burrow. However, when he entered, Ron grabbed him and wrestled him into the cupboard under the stairs where he locked the door and left him there until the start of term.

           When all the chilluns were finally loaded up in the Hogwart’s Express, Harry was seething with anger. He just spent half the summer under the stairs. To get revenge on Ron, he started something he dubbed as the Slug Club. A group dedicated to learning the Eat Slugs charm which they would later perform on Ronald.

           All of Harry’s favorite people were invited. Ginny, (operation Break Up Ginny and Dean was in full effect), McLaggen, (the jock Harry wished we was), and Zabini, (because Harry loved to steal Draco’s friends almost as much as he liked to ruin happy relationships). He thought he might let nasty old Hermione join in if she stopped hinting that she was in love with Ron.

           By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, all of them were barfing slugs. Harry romantically heaved three slugs on Ginny’s head. Feeling accomplished, Harry decided to go provoke Draco. However, when he did find Draco, he found him to be having a conversation chock full of secrets and decided to eavesdrop instead.

           "Hey! Yo, Pansy!“ shouted Draco. "I’m going to kill Dumbledore on old Voldy’s orders!”

           "WOW! You’re so macho!“ squealed Pansy.

           Interesting, thought Harry. Very interesting. In order for Draco to be under Voldy’s control, he would have to be a Death Eater. Harry scoffed at this idea. Only nerds were Death Eaters. And Draco was NOT a nerd.

           Up at the castle, Harry began to do his nightly exercises in order to prepare for lessons the next day. This routine consisted of several pirouettes around the Great Hall, a shouting match with Professor McGonagall, and some artistic graffiti on a few of the Castle’s most prized portraits.

           The next morning, Harry awoke with a burning excitement in his chest. He soon found the burning sensation was due to the fact that Ron had set his sleep-shirt on fire. Quickly extinguishing himself with some of his own spit, he headed off for his first Potions lesson.

           Deep, deep down in the dungeons, he entered the slimy potions classroom. He sat down to face the fat man he and Dumbledore came recruiting. "Good morning, kiddos!” the man announced. “I am Horace Slughorn.” Harry thought Slughorn would make an excellent addition to the Slug Club. “Please take out your books and begin brewing a generous amount of wart dissolving solution for me to use on my feet,” he said, waving his wart covered feet in front of them.

           Harry rolled his eyes. He hated explaining the basics to amateurs, but it was something he had to do. “Do you know who I am?” Harry shouted. “I am Harry Potter, and Harry Potter NEVER, under any circumstances, purchases his own books!”

           Slughorn smiled knowingly. He handed Harry a very battered book. “Now, it may not look like much on the outside, but whoever left this book wrote enough helpful hints to make you top of my class.” Harry was used to this sort of flattery. He was top of every class due to the fact that most teachers gave him extra credit just for showing up.

           Harry smirked as he prepared the best potion of the class. “In your face Hermione!” he shouted, shoving her cauldron off the table so the contents spilled all over the floor.

           Over the next few months, Harry’s potion book became his best friend. Its pages were filled with dark curses that he tested on Ron at every opportunity. Harry felt exhilarated, powerful; he struck fear into the hearts of all. He lovingly dubbed himself the Half-Blood Prince. He felt it had a nice ring to it. Kind of like Lord Voldemort.

           His new attitude had the desired effect. Ginny was noticing him. What did it matter that she cursed him and shouted at him almost as much as he did so to Ron (and occasionally Dean)? He knew she was drawn to his dark powers. When he voiced these opinions to her, she called him some things like ignorant and pig-head. He didn’t really know. He had forgotten to listen seeing as he had just spotted Malfoy. And stalking Malfoy was his third favorite hobby in the world.

           Running Ginny over with his motorized scooter, he sped off after Draco. Draco walked up to a blank wall. Then, he began a complicated ritual that included several incantations in words Harry could not understand, a blood sacrifice, and a choir of monks singing as Draco danced ballet.

           Suddenly, a door appeared. Draco stepped in and Harry followed. Inside was a beautiful garden filled with apple trees and fluffy bunny rabbits. Draco sat down and began humming tunelessly. Harry sat down beside him, harmonizing tunelessly. They sat for hours. Harry was thrilled that he made a friend. This was his first friend ever. Wait. What? Harry Potter did not have friends! He had servants and admirers. Harry left as quickly as he could, pelting Draco with apples as he went.

           Back in the safety of the corridors, he heard the intercom come on. “Harry Potter, report to Dumbledore’s office immediately. Be prepared to hunt horcruxes.”

           Harry sped away on his scooter and up to the Headmaster’s office. “Harry,” Dumbledore said as Harry entered the office, “you must come with me. Now, the intercom made it sound like we were doing something important, but the truth is, Voldemort has a very beautiful piece of jewelry, heavily guarded that I am very jealous of. I must have it Harry. And since you starred in Cinderella your fourth year, I believe you will be the perfect partner in crime.”

           Harry nodded. Of course his role in Cinderella would have landed him an important gig like this. It was inevitable. Dumbledore hopped on the back of Harry’s scooter and they rode all the way to Hogsmeade. Then, they apparated, landing in the middle of an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

           "I cayn’t swim! I cayn’t swim!“ Harry screamed, trashing wildly. A local lifeguard was luckily on duty and managed to pull Harry to safety. Harry and Dumbledore looked around. They appeared to be in a gym complex.

           "Yes Harry,” said Dumbledore, “the necklace is here. Voldemort is working out on the treadmill at this very moment. So here’s the gameplan: we crack the code to old Voldy’s gym locker, steal the necklace and book it.”

           Harry was ready. He was in ninja mode. With as much stealth as possible, he went crashing past Voldemort screaming, “GOT YOUR NOSE!” and made his way to the locker room. Conveniently, he had left his axe in his coat pocket and was able to chop through Voldemort’s locker without trouble, and snatch up the necklace. He and Dum-Dog exited that place speedy quick.

           When they reached Hogsmeade once more, Dumbledore put his hand on Harry’s face, a loving gesture. “Tonight is the night that Snape kills me. I just wanted to wear this fancy piece of jewelry when it happens. Do you understand Harry?” asked Dumbledore.

           "Of course! I’m not stupid! This isn’t rocket science,“ replied Harry, feeling annoyed that the old man would ask him such a dumb question.

           Together, they made their way up to the highest tower of the castle. When they arrived, they came face to face with Severus Snape. What is he doing here? The idiot…Harry thought.

           "Avada Kedavra!” Snape shouted. Dumbledore fell. Harry screamed. Snape killed Dumbledore. He did not see that one coming. Enraged, Harry put on his Viking hat to ram Snape in the chest. He missed and instead went tumbling down the stairs. Unfazed, he began to wake the castle with the news.

           "SNAPE KILLED DUMBLEDORE!“

           Why would Dumbledore not have at least warned him that something like this might happen? Harry was angry at everyone for being so inferior to himself.

           Slowly, a crowd gathered around Dumbledore’s body. Under the pretense of being upset, Harry approached the body and ripped the gorgeous necklace from Dumbledore’s throat.

           He placed it on himself feeling lovelier than ever. Then, he ran. He didn’t have the time for this stupid school. He was much too great to grace the castle with his presence.

           I mean, he was Harry Potter.

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8

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

“Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I’d like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?”

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

(1989) Rated PG-13 - 1hr 37m

Hapless Clark, exasperated Ellen and their ever-changing kids take on Christmas in this holiday classic. As usual, all their good intentions can’t save them from disaster … or Cousin Eddie, whose surprise visit throws them into disarray.

7.4/10 - IMDB

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