The Amazingly Magical Stories of Harry Putter and the Putters

Ten years later, Harry Putter lived under the kitchen table at the Dizzly’s household. He had a single blanket to keep himself warm at night, and his food and water were placed two times a day in the old dog dishes that used to belong to his Uncle Vernando’s childhood pet pitbull Mister Snuggles before he passed away. Harry had some newspapers down there to go to the bathroom on, and for years he was perfectly comfortable in his spot under the kitchen table, except during meal times, when his family took to “accidentally” kicking him in the face every now and then.

Due to being kicked so often in the face, it’s no wonder that Harry’s vision began to slowly dwindle throughout the years, and now he had taken to wearing an old pair of his Aunt Parsnip’s glasses. Aunt Parsnip had one of those fancy schmancy laser-eye surgeries, you see, and no longer needed them.

Sometimes when Uncle Vernando grew angry, he took to thwapping poor Harry with his old cane a bit. Uncle Vernando looked for any excuse he could find to whack the thing around, seeing as how he enjoyed the sound of old wood pounding against… anything, really. However, it may have been proven that he enjoyed it a little too much, seeing as he had already broken five canes this year from whacking them about and was working on his sixth.

Harry’s cousin Cadberry was as fat as they come, and coincidentally bore an incredible resemblance to a giant white chocolate Cadbury egg. He was always found eating something, and his favorite pastime just so happened to be insulting Harry in any way he could to make the boy cry.

Harry’s life at the Dizzly’s was not pleasant, but he knew no other life.

And so, as his eleventh birthday drew nearer, things started to grow worse for Harry, because he lived in a terrible, terrible home with terrible, terrible people who were constantly terribly, terribly mean to him for no apparent reason whatsoever. Secretly Harry thought that Uncle Vernando and Cadberry were just jealous because Harry was skinny and they were fat. As for Aunt Parsnip, well, she was just a bitch to everyone.

One day, about a week away from his birthday, Harry awoke to storms of yelling. He sat upright in shock, bumping his head on the kitchen table as he did so. His spot under the table was comfortable for a while, but he really was outgrowing it, as he continually told his Aunt Parsnip, who wouldn’t listen because she’s a bitch and just shoved raw onions in his mouth instead.

On this particular day, though, Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip seemed to be in a heated argument, which was odd, seeing as Uncle Vernando was Aunt Parsnip’s puppy dog and usually did whatever she asked of him without complaint.

“I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT’S SO GREAT ABOUT HITLER,” roared Uncle Vernando, “WHEN STALIN WAS JUST AS BADASS.”

“OH NO YOU DI’INT YOU MUTHAFUCKA!!!” shrieked Aunt Parsnip. “STALIN WAS ONE MUTHAFUCKIN’ PAIN IN THE ASS!!! HITLER THREW THE BEST PARTIES IN ALL OF EUROPE, AND I KNOW, ‘CAUSE I WAS AT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF ‘EM!!!”

“THAT’S A LOAD OF BULL, PARS-NIPPY, YOU WEREN’T EVEN BORN WHEN HITLER WAS BORN!!!”

“I WAS BORN THREE YEARS AFTER HIM AND I WAS INVITED TO HIS GRAD PARTY, YOU PIG!!!”

Confused as to why his aunt and uncle were arguing over which dictator had more swag, Harry rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep, which was difficult considering the fact that they wouldn’t stop pounding their fists on the kitchen table above him, probably unaware that he was even under there. So instead he simply sat there, curled up in a ball, fists clamped tight over his ears, until Aunt Parsnip went outside to tend to the monstrosity that she called a garden and the yelling ceased.

Suddenly remembering Harry’s existence, Uncle Vernando shoved his hand under the table and pulled Harry out by the hair.

“YOU’RE A MONKEY!” he shouted at the boy, for no real reason.

“Oh, boo, am I really?” the boy said in confusion, for he had just begun to fall into a sort of lucid dream in which he actually was a monkey.

“DON’T BE STUPID! YOU’RE DUMB!” And then, with one giant whack on the boy’s backside, Uncle Vernando’s sixth cane finally snapped in half. The fat man sank back into his chair as tears began to well up in his eyes. The next second he was bawling his eyes out, and at the rate the tears were flowing, the house very well may have flooded in a matter of minutes. However, he tried to cover up his tears by shouting flaming profanities at the walls.

Seconds later, Harry’s fat cousin Cadberry walked downstairs and entered the kitchen, holding a platter containing an entire chocolate cake.

“Somebody say my name?” he asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes and taking a bite out of the enormous pastry. He looked from Harry, to his father, to the broken cane lying on the floor, and he understood, since this was a fairly common occurrence in the Dizzly household. “Oh, crap,” he muttered under his breath. Then he opened the back door and called outside, “MOM! DAD’S BROKEN HIS CANE AGAIN!!!”

Aunt Parsnip came rushing inside, fussing and cooing over her husband. Dizzly stayed in his corner, happily munching on his cake. Finally, after what seemed like hours of trying to calm Uncle Vernando down, Aunt Parsnip helped him up out of his chair, grabbed her son’s arm, and began dragging them violently out the door.

“Come on now, come on!” she ordered Cadberry. “We’re going to the supermarket to buy your father a new cane. Come on now, hurry!”

“Wait…” said Harry in confusion. “Do they actually sell canes at the supermarket?”

“YOU BIG FAT MEANIE!!!” Uncle Vernando shouted at him. “YOU BROKED SIR SMACKSALOT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!” He was just about to begin bawling again when Aunt Parsnip shoved him out the door.

“You, boy!” she cried, pointing a long fingernail at Harry. “You stay under that table, and if I find out you had another accident on the carpet…” and then she left the house with Cadberry, slamming the door behind her.

Of course, having the house all to himself was no common occurrence, and of course he wasn’t going to listen to his aunt, because hey, what she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her, right? So he crept up to his cousin Cadberry’s room to see what life was like upstairs, where he wasn’t usually allowed to go because that’s where Cadberry’s room was and Cadberry liked to throw chocolate pudding at Harry when he tried to come upstairs.

When he got to his cousin’s room, he automatically grabbed the nearest chocolate item he could find and began munching on it. The constant eating of chocolate must’ve been contagious, because after that he just couldn’t help himself. Then he bounced a bit on the bed before falling asleep on it. And then he was dreaming.

He was dreaming about a rather tall, rather fat man who travelled only by flying golf carts. There was also a talking cat in there, but that didn’t seem weird at all for some reason… and some strange Gothic old man wearing a stupid black band T-shirt. It had been a strange dream, but it had been a good dream, and it had seemed oddly familiar to him… but it couldn’t have lasted because Harry is supposed to be incredibly unhappy at this point of the story so we’d better get there right away.

The Dizzlys came back home and Cadberry was none too pleased to find Harry asleep in his bed. He woke the small boy up by shaking him violently, and when that didn’t work, he tried pouring chocolate pudding over his head. This woke up Harry, but then Cadberry was sad because there was chocolate pudding all over his bed now. In order to comfort himself, Cadberry immediately started insulting his little cousin.

He was still munching on the chocolate cake he had earlier, except now only a quarter of it was remaining, and in between bites he said: “You suck! You’re ugly and you have no friends or parents and I’m better than you and I’ve got parents and cheesecake and chocolate things and you have to sleep under a table, hahaha, I get the bed, oooh boohoo, it just sucks to be you, doesn’t it? I’m glad I don’t look like you because that’s not a pretty face and you’re ugly, hahaha!”

These were the usual insults from Cadberry, and they weren’t very good, but they still hurt poor Harry’s feelings, and so he began to cry. Laughing, Cadberry crossed the room to his computer, but when he went to turn it on, the whole thing exploded in his face, leaving black burn marks on the desk where it used to be, and Cadberry’s entire head covered in ash.

“…Ouch,” Cadberry muttered. “That kinda hurt.”

This was Harry’s chance to escape. He leaped off the bed and dashed downstairs, where Uncle Vernando was sitting in his usual spot at the kitchen table, holding his brand-new cane tightly in his hands. He was muttering to himself, something about Stalin having tons more swag than Hitler, and Harry realized that his battle with Aunt Parsnip was still not over.

“Hey, Uncle Vernando,” Harry said, just to be annoying. “Hey, Uncle Vernando! Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, Uncle Vernando, UNCLE VERNANDO!!! GUESS WHAT!!!”

“Nffrghffnnnng… WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!” he shouted, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear him. His eyes were wide and his lips were puffed up, just like he always got when he was incredibly mad.

“I had a dream,” Harry continued excitedly. “And there was this flying golf cart! Isn’t that stupid, Uncle Vernando? The golf cart was flying!”

“GOLF—CARTS—DON’T—FLY!!!” he yelled, and as he did so, his eyes popped further and further out of his head, and his lips grew bigger and bigger, until it looked almost abnormal.

“Uncle Vernando, look!” said Harry, stifling a laugh. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“THIS—IS—MY—FACE!!!”

But it wasn’t just his face, because as he said this, his head began to swell to the size of a beach ball, and then, suddenly, it just detached itself from his body with a small pop! and his head soared up into the ceiling, bobbing around in the air as if it were filled with helium.

“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed.

Uncle Vernando, other than the fact that his face and body were frozen and his giant head was bouncing around, seemed completely fine. Harry then seized the cane from his uncle’s firm grasp and began poking the head with it, chasing it all around the kitchen and laughing maniacally as he did so. He hadn’t had this much fun in his life.

But then Aunt Parsnip walked in, and, needless to say, she was shocked at the sight. For some reason she was holding a pie, and she let out a gasp, and then a scream, and she dropped the pie and it exploded again and got all over every single house on the street, which angered everyone because they had just finished scraping all the pie off from ten years ago.

As Aunt Parnsip screamed, Uncle Vernando’s head suddenly shriveled up and flew across the room as if it were a balloon leaking air. It ricocheted off the walls and floor for quite some time before finally landing safely on his head, where it regained its normal size and proportions again. Then he put on a great big smile and began acting as if nothing bad had ever happened to him in his life.

“Lovely day we’re having, eh, Parsnip, my love?” he said jovially. “It’s so nice out I think I might just go for a walk with my new cane…” And he stood up and left the house, whistling and banging things all the way.

“YOOOOOOU!!!” Aunt Parsnip yelled, pointing at Harry. Her fingernails were long and painted mustard yellow and were really very disgusting to look at. “YOU ARE A MENTAL CASE!!! GOODBYE!!!” And she stormed out of the house after her husband.

When he was sure that they were gone, Harry sat down on the table and began stroking his chin as if he were some super awesome detective person with a super awesome beard.

“Hmm…” he muttered to himself, continuing to stroke his non-existent beard, “Something fishy’s going on here, and I don’t think it’s just me… I think Uncle Vernando and Aunt Parsnip know something about my past that they’re not telling me… yes, that’s probably it… but I wouldn’t know because I’m just pretending to be Sherlock Holmes, yes… something fishy…”

But then Cadberry walked in, this time munching on a bag of M&Ms (plastic and all), and stared at him. Harry froze in his spot as an awkward silence fell between them.

“Oh, uh…” said Harry, fumbling for words. “Um, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Yeah…” said Cadberry awkwardly. “Uh, let’s just pretend that never happened…”

And so they did, and the writer then scribbled it out because she did not find it funny.