changedmod (changedmod) wrote in changedrpg, @ 2011-12-22 23:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !date: 1997 - december, !the quibbler, xenophilius lovegood |
The Quibbler: 22 December 1997
PAGE ONE
Holiday Warning: Vendetta Poinsettia and Cannibalistic Carolers in Cambridge
Xenophilius Lovegood
The holiday season is a time for joy and merriment. A time to reconnect with family and to make time for those which we are all guilty of neglecting or ignoring because the truth of the matter is that we don’t really like them all that much anyway. But, as you sit down this holiday season to feast on cranberries and turkey remember that no matter what time of year it is--there are always things in the world that want to kill you.
Lucky for you, we at the Quibbler are almost entirely devoted some of the time to making sure that you make it through to see (at the very least) the end of 1997. Thus, we want to bring to your attention a few things that you ought to keep your eyes peeled for this dangerous and festive season.
If you happen to be in Black Pool, you might want to be extra cautious around Poinsettia. These normally poisonous plants are, well, poisonous and could cause you a great deal of harm if you decide to put them in your Christmas salad. They are not an edible green (and red) and should be avoided at all costs.
But those of you in the north are at even more risk! It seems that Poinsettia are beginning to grow weary of their own contained poisonous properties and are beginning to contaminate everything they come in contact with! Keep them off your dinner tables, away from your desserts and out of the reach of pets, children and irresponsibly adults. You’ve read it here first! The Poinsettia have a vendetta and it’s against you. Be careful!
There are many horrors in Cambridge, England at just about any time of year--besides, of course, the University students--but Christmas is a particularly dangerous time in this sleepy hollow. Legend has it that every year, a group of undead carollers rise from the dead to stalk to the beautiful architecture of the lovely city in search of blood. These are not--and it cannot be stressed enough--your typical ghosts. They are hungry sirens singing songs of Christmas cheer only to lure the unsuspecting to open up their homes to welcome not good tiding of great joy, but painful soul-sucking death.
And no one wants that for Christmas.