Damn Car
Viopathartic
A/N: Ooh I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it!
Warning: If you are any way offended by the topics discussed in this chapter, I apologize. These opinions are not of my own but were just put into this chapter for harmless humor.
Harry wondered if policemen were gay.
It's something that has remained unanswered in society. The police department could easily install a metal detecting machine like the ones in the airport and ask the arrested person to pass through it. That way knifes, machetes (it has happened before), guns or any other weapons can be detected. But no, the policemen choose to "pat" them down, just to "make sure". Right, more like to fulfill their most unreachable desires…
Harry was getting uncomfortable as he stood with his arms spread and feet separated. The police officer in question started with Harry's upper body, giving a few taps to certain areas.
"I'm innocent. I'm innocent. I'm innocent." Harry repeated with his voice monotonous for he had said this ever since they got out of the police car.
The officer continued to ignore him and moved his hand over to Harry's bottom, "checking" for weapons. Immediately, feeling the man's large hand on his buttocks, Harry jumped away.
Narrowing his eyes, he said with an irritable voice, "Watch it, buddy." The constable, Jerry McPhee, glared in return.
"I'm only searching for weapons."
"Why can't I check myself?" The man rolled his eyes as if Harry was the stupidest person on Earth which annoyed him a lot.
"You, as a criminal, are not exactly reliable."
"I didn't do anything!"
"Oh yeah? How can you explain that bloody leg of yours?"
"A dog bite?"
"The bloody sword?"
"It's for a play I'm doing."
"With human blood-"
"Oh c'mon-"
"That is not yours." The two men challenged each other with their eyes until Harry sighed with anxiety.
"Into the interrogation room with you." McPhee pointed down the corridor. With one last glance, Harry noisily stomped his way to the end of the hall. As he continued on his way, the most brilliant plan came to him and he smiled what people would call his "evil smile". He supposed if he was going to be here a long time, he may as well have fun.
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Harry looked at the two-way mirror with false awe. Thanks to some of Dudley's crappy movies, Harry knew that on the other side were a bunch of skinny policemen. He stuck out his tongue, picked his nose, and was just about to moon them when the door opened.
"Alight, buddy. Sit your ass down." Reluctantly, Harry sat down.
"Let's start with your name." The unknown man stared at Harry. Then, faking surprise, Harry asked, "Oh, you're asking me? Well, gosh, usually people would say 'What is your name?' but I guess you're not one of them.
"Funny boy, aren't you? Now, I ask again, 'What is your name?'"
"Osama Bin Laden."
"Really, you don't look like him," said the man sarcastically.
"Oh, well plastic surgery could do anything for you these days!"
The questioner stared at him which made Harry smile even wider.
"Don't I look purty?"
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"So I see your leg is injured."
"No shit, Sherlock. Geez, no wonder you're still an officer…"
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"That's a very interesting scar you have on your forehead."
"Really? Well, do you want one? You can borrow my sword if you like."
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"This boy is a jackass! God, he won't even answer the damn questions!" Greg said, throwing his hands up in the air. The team was in their quarters, all of them coming from the interrogation room. The others agreed; the car stealer was stubborn. Greg Sanders was the unofficial leader of the group. He was probably the most serious out of the five of them and the most controlling.
"Calm down, we'll get to him sooner or later," said Tyler Benson, the newest member and the most laid back. He balanced in his chair, throwing up a soft football up and down.
"It's impossible! The guy won't even speak-how can we find his identity-"
"I found his identity." Patricia Evan cut in, holding a sheet of paper. Everyone looked at the fifth member
of their group in surprise.
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"Harry Potter."
"I would rather if you talked in complete sentences, but yes, that's me." Greg slowly walked around the table, pulled up a chair, and sat right in front of Harry.
"We finally found out who you are."
"Apparently." Harry crossed his arms on his chest and looked at the man with amusement.
"You are eighteen years old-"
"But mentally three-years-old!" Harry added in a sing-song voice.
"You lived with the Dursleys, your rightful guardian and aunt and uncle."
"Bless them!"
"And apparently you went to St. Brutus."
"I guess so," Harry shrugged. Greg looked up at his response, but did not say anything else.
"What was it that made your guardians send you to a school for juvenile delinquents? Tell me what you think."
"Tell you? Well, I did nothing!"
"Really? Did you do anything dangerous?"
"Well, if you count the dog incident…I didn't know he would go for the homemade bomb that I made…and then Little Johnny on the street, I thought the days in the dumpster were good for him…and Dudley…who knew he couldn't fly!"
To add more to the officer's shock, Harry smiled with all his teeth.
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He took off all his clothes and stepped into the shower room.
A guard was stationed right next to his stall. Harry began to sing the Barney theme song in off-key tones.
"Will you shut the bloody hell up?" boomed a gruff voice after a few minutes
"Why don't you leave, you nasty pervert?" Harry yelled back, scrubbing some of the rye soap onto his skin.
"I'm doing my job."
"By looking at my bum?" He laughed rudely. "Go away."
"You're paranoid, Potter."
I LOVE YOU
YOU LOVE ME
WE"RE A HAPPY FAMILY!!!
"Potter, I have a gun!"
"And I have my di-oops, how rude of me. Bad Potter." Harry took a deep breath and continued to sing.
WITH A GREAT BIG HUG
AND A KISS FROM ME TO YOU
WON'T YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME
TOO!!!
Harry yelled the last part with all his might, adding in a classical falsetto. He stopped singing when he heard the door close. He smiled wickedly and continued to shower.
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Harry sat in the room, whistling "We Will Rock you" as loud as he could. Two guards stood at the entrance with their hands behind their back and their faces blank of emotion. As much as they hid it, Harry knew it was annoying them, seeing one of them flinch whenever Harry began a new bar. The door opened and the cranky bastard-what's his name again-came out.
"Time for your mug shots, Potter."
"Yippee!" Harry jumped up from his seat, feigning enthusiasm. Skipping towards the authorities and causing them to look at Harry as if he was crazy (which he probably was by now). He acted like he forgot something, putting a finger on his chin and turned to Greg. "Do you have a comb? I wanna send my pictures a Christmas card to the Dursleys."
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In normal street called Privet Drive, an obese boy, his anorexic mother and his even more obese father sat in their normal home eating a normal family dinner. They turned on their normal TV and watched the normal news.
"Tsk Tsk…Angel dust…Thank God our little Dudley is not like that." said Aunt Petunia distastefully. Unbeknownst to her, Dudley suddenly paled.
"Just eighteen too. Well, darling let's change to another channel, I think it's upsetting Dudley." Petunia did as she was told. She lifted her fork up, but she froze when she saw the picture on her screen.
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Emma Granger sat in the corner, reading the latest Danielle Steele novel. Her husband worked on the couch, his eyes focused on his laptop. The news flashed by on their tube but none caught their attention.
"…Thanks, Sharon. And now, we move on to a tragic but at the same time humorous story in the arrest of a teenager named Harry Potter. At first the police found him in a car accident but arrested him after they found out he was in possession of a stolen car. Now in custody of police authority, he refuses to say anything. The department claims they identified him but have not yet figured out his past…"
"Dan, DAN!" Emma threw the book into her husband's lap.
"What?"
"Isn't that Hermione's friend?" Dan looked at where she was pointed and his face soon turned into confusion. Hermione, who was baking some muffins in the kitchen, walked into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron.
"What is it, mum?" Learning quickly, she followed where her mum was pointing. Her eyes widening, she yelled,
"Holy fuck!"
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Harry lay in his bunk, smiling to himself. Jail isn't that bad, he thought. So, now how should I act tomorrow? Harry laughed to himself, organizing a plan. Finding a small pencil, he wrote on the wall:
Monday: Schizophrenic act
Tuesday: Dramatic act
Wednesday: Multiple Personality Disorder act
Thursday: PMS mood
Friday: OCD
Saturday: Normal
Sunday: My Choice
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MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!!!