Bollocks! (topbollocks) wrote in _bollocks_, @ 2008-06-20 16:38:00 |
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It was the homestretch before the weekend, and what, one may ask, could possibly have been a better way to top off a Friday than with one of Professor Faolagan McLachlan's awe-inspiring speeches? Well, almost anything. The details were hazed over, as "TIS NEE IMPORTAHNT -- AN' IF'N YE KNOO WHA'S GOOD F'R YE, YE WOHN'T BE ASKIN'." But, it was clear that things were... less well with our dear professor than normal. Rumor held that Peeves had his jollies with setting off one of Filibuster's Fabulous Fireworks beneath a certain Scotsman's kilt, but if you really want to know? You ask him yourself. No less, he was mite more cranky despite the golden glow of sunshine and serene drifting of clouds up above, and those grounded at Hogwarts under the good professor's tutelage would find one vast storm cloud blocking all sight of a pleasant weekend. Someone, having noted the time, decided to start packing up. 'The Lochness' whipped up his attention from a mass of scrawls across the front board (all equally as difficult to translate to standard English as his accent), and thus followed (as confided one of his sixth year students to another): "SIT YE DOWN, LADDIE. WHA D' YE THIN' YER DOOIN', YE UHNGRA'FUL PANHNSIE -- YE THINK YER RUNNIN' TH' CLAHSS NOO DOO YE...? WELL, LEMME TELL YE SUMTHIN', YE MISCREANT --" Pause. Intense thought twinged with a hellish shade of red flushed the teacher's face. "TEN PAGES! NOO YE NEE FEELIN' SO PROUD ARE YE?! TEN PAGES OON M' DESK BY SUHNDAY. AH CANNAE CARE IF'N YE THIN' YER GOOIN' TO PLAY YER QUIDDITCH. SUHNDAY. NOO GET OUTTA M' CLASSROOM, YE WEE LOT O' -- OOUT!" An' doonee thin' yer -- And don't think you're off the hook if you didn't happen to have Ancient Runes today. The death sentence on a weekend had been reached to all his students before the afternoon is up. And the assigned source that must be translated is liable to cause weeping. Best get cracking; time's wasting. ((Picture source)) |