Harry Splutter & the Lure of Hollyweird

Episode 8

Here it is by popular demand of my reader, the continuing saga of Harry Splutter and the Never Ending Story….

“When a wizard does something bad, like jaywalking, a piece of the sole is torn away and can be placed in a container. Making the wizard, as it were, immortal…if he or she can remember his or her shoe size.”

“And, that’s a bad thing?”

“Oh yes. Who’d want to live forever? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Harry knew that Bumblebore had now lost the screw that had been loose. Living forever sounded pretty groovy to him. If he did so, he might even be able to make some money in the stock market. Analyzing trends and such.

“Anyway,” Bumblebore continued, “I’m sure that you’re going to want to know how to destroy a Horcrux.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. sure.”

“Could I trouble you to get me an iced tea from over there?” Bumblebore pointed vaguely to a rather seedy place next to the Three Broomsticks Express. It was called The Rusty Cauldron Nail. “They make the best ones around Long Island, or so I hear.”

Harry walked toward it or towards it, he wasn’t certain. Anyway, he walked over and went inside the dark interior. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. There was a very long bar and a man behind it, wiping the wooden surface with a magical rag that left everything damp after it passed.

The man was tall and wore a spotted white apron. His black hair was combed straight back and unguentined into place. He had a sharp beaky nose and squinting eyes as
though he was always trying to focus on something. He had a toothpick that danced magically in his mouth when he spoke.

“What can I get you runt?” the man grumbled with a voice as if a well could speak. The toothpick did the rhumba.

“Do you have the iced tea like they make in Long Island?” Harry asked timidly.

“Sure. Anything else, bub?”

Harry shook his head.

The man turned and began pulling strangely shaped bottles from in front of a magical mirror that reflected the man’s opposite side than the one Harry could see and the bottles on the wall. “One Long Island Iced Tea coming up.” The man mixed different colored liquids together and the magically changed colors and became a blend of the colors they had been.

And so it goes…

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Harry Splutter & the Lure of Hollyweird

Episode 7

A short riff today. A mere 270 words…

After Bumblebore magically cleared the table of detritus, Harry went off to find the boozehound something to drink. Next to a Scarf and Barf he found a Three Broomsticks Express and ordered two butterbeers.

He carried them back to the table and put one in front of the wizened wizard. “Okay, speak,” he said.

Bumblebore picked up the flagon of flavor and downed half of it with one big gulp.

“Thank you my boy.” He wiped foam from his face with an iffy sleeve. “Where were we?”

“The Horcrux, you mangy magician.” Harry twirled his wand like a light saber.

Bumblebore downed the dregs of his buterbeer. “Uh…huh. Horcrux, Horcrux…hmmm, I seem to have a faulty memory.”

“Oh, okay,” sighed Harry despondently. “I’ll get you another butter beer you olde boozehound.”

“Who you calling a boozehound?” retorted the red nosed wizard.

Harry came back with the drink and set it on the table. All the butter beers had magically emptied.

“Now,” Harry growled menacingly. “Horcruxii or I’m reporting you to AA.”

“Amalgamated Alchemists? I doubt they’ll do much.”


“Horcruxii, are a portion of a magical person’s sole.”

Bumblebore sipped contentedly at his drink while wondering if he could get Harry to buy him something stronger like a Sloe Gin Fizz or Long Island Iced Tea. He might be able to con a tea out of the little weenie if Harry thought it didn’t contain booze.

“When a wizard does something bad, like jaywalking, a piece of the sole is torn away and can be placed in a container. Making the wizard, as it were, immortal…if he or she can remember his or her shoe size.”

To be continued…

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Harry Splutter & the Lure of Hollyweird

Episode 6

Ron trailed behind Hermione, whining as usual.

“Look who I found lurking about the little witches room.” Hermione said hooking her thumb in Ron Weasel’s direction.

“Shoot, don’t blame me, I don’t understand wha’ these funny runic symbols next to the doors mean.”

“You are such a weasel, Weasel,” shrieked Hermione.

“Please, my throat is parched from extemporaneousising upon Horcruxii,” Bumblebore blustered futilely, since the two kept up their incessant bickering.

“Would you two get on with it and snog or shag or something?” Harry yelled exasperatedly, in the way that JK uses adverbs for every bit of dialogue.

“Well, if you’re going to be that way about it,” Hermione sniffed. “Come, Weasel.”

“Now you’re talking!” exclaimed Weasel excitedly waving his wand. He scooped up Hermione and carried her off to a dark corner in the parking garage.

“Now, where were we?” asked Bumblebore. Obviously not able to scan the previous paragraphs to find his place.

“Drink, the Horcruxii,” moaned Harry.

“I know the way.” Bumblebore charged off across the street. Cars magically missed him by inches. Harry, however, was another matter. Harry had to dodge, weave, parry, and thrust to make it to the other side.

Bumblebore shoved the double doors open like a new gun coming into the saloon. (Like that? Bumblebore & double door. Get the poetry of it all? Never mind.)

They walked into a food court filled with wondrous things—Wizard King, California Pizza Wizard, a bar that served miners (no minors allowed), McWizards, Long John Wizards, Dunkin’ Dowitch, and Starbucks.

Bumblebore wiped off a table with his robe sleeve making the table dirtier than it had been though less crowded. Cups and paper plates went flying magically to the floor.

To be continued….

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