Harry asked with surprise in his voice, “Organ playing?”
Bigshot confirmed, “Yes, it’s eerie and well, bizarrely eccentric of him!”
Harry agreed, “That certainly sounds bizarre. But considering the circumstances, things must be pretty quiet now that he’s gone.”
Butthilda snorted and said, “Yes, but for how long? And if that weren’t enough, ever since he moved in, every night, thunder and lightning storms! Why, with the organ playing, the thunder, and the cats coughing up hairballs, is it any wonder I need a nap each afternoon?”
Hermione said, “Well, you can hardly blame him for the weather!”
Bigshot disagreed, “Why not? We never used to have thunder and lightning but once in a rare while, like everyone else. Somehow, it’s got to be his fault.”
Harry nodded reassuringly and knowingly said, “I see.”
She complained, “And to top it all off, he wants me to water his plants while he’s gone!”
Harry and Hermione were shocked. Hermione’s mouth was agape and the mouthful she had been chewing was showing in a most rude and unattractive manner.
Harry swallowed and asked, “While… he’s gone?”
Bigshot confirmed, “Yes, I’ve been taking care of his plants for the past two weeks while he’s been away recruiting allies for the Final Battle.”
Hermione asked, “Who? Grumblesnore?”
Butthilda laughed, “Mr. Grumblesnore? Certainly not! Oh my, no wonder you thought I was talking about rock ‘n roll music. No, no, no. My next door neighbor is Mr. Moldyfart.”
Chapter 10 – A Surprise Christmas Visit
Butthilda Bigshot and Harry Putter had something in common, their mortal nemesis was Lord Moldyfart. Since she believed the tenet, the enemy of your enemy is your friend, Bigshot was only too glad to help Harry. In doing so, she was hoping that Putter would finally rid her of the neighbor from hell, who had been a thorn in her side and bringing down property values in her neighborhood ever since the day he moved next door. She was counting on Harry to restore peace to her local community as well as to the larger wizardly community as a whole.
And so, she handed Harry the key to the Fart Lord’s castle crib. As she did, she said, “Merry Christmas, Harry, and many happy returns!”
Harry laughed and said, “I only hope that I can return the favor.”
Bigshot said, “Just bring the Kitten Killer down, Harry, and no one will be happier than I!”
Harry was eager to search Moldyfart’s place for clues while the Fart Lord was away, as Butthilda said, “recruiting allies for the Final Battle.” It was a golden opportunity, and he was ready to make the most of it.
In the early hours of Christmas Day, most children were nestled in bed with visions of sugar plums, dolls, toys, and excessively violent video games dancing in their heads. Harry and Hermione, however, were anticipating a successful breaking and entering operation. Their visions were filled with mischief-making and getting a quick jump to the top of Santa’s naughty list for the following year.
They made their way past the offensive garbage cans lined up against Butthilda’s fence. They ignored caution signs that read, “No Trespassing, Violators will be Persecuted!” and “Warning! Solicitors will be tortured to death and have their souls eaten,” and “Dead People’s Things for Sale, Inquire Within.” They opened the spiked black-iron gate decorated with skulls and other human bones. They admired how the lightning crashed perfectly on cue with their first good glimpse of the eerie old castle.
They took a short-cut and walked across the lawn consisting of mud and brown patches of dead grass. They walked past a small cemetery to the excessively large iron-studded front door. Harry inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open with a noisy creak. He turned on the lights.
Inside the old castle they discovered a stunning modern mansion. They were standing in a giant entrance foyer with a beautiful staircase and chandelier. They admired the large expanses of marble and crystal before them. There were many beautiful plants and even two small trees. To his left, Harry noticed a movie poster on the wall. It advertised The Lady in the Water. Harry hadn’t seen that one, but he seemed to remember that it was not favorably reviewed. He noticed someone had scribbled something on it. When he looked closer, he saw it was someone’s signature.
To his right, he spotted another signed movie poster. This one was for, The Happening.
Harry let out a gasp and said, “This is truly an evil place.”
Hermione suggested, “Let’s split up and look for clues.”
Harry laughed and replied, “All right, Velma.”
“Velma? Ha ha,” Hermione laughed sarcastically. “I’m serious. This is a big place, we should split up, and that way, we’ll cover more ground. That is, unless you’re too afraid?”
Harry scoffed, “Afraid of what? Aside from his choice in movies, I don’t see anything too scary.”
“Fine, I’ll take the left, you cover the right, and we’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes. Holler if you find anything interesting.”
“Will do.”
Hermione explored the rooms in the left wing of the castle. She discovered a room filled with the skulls of kittens and bunnies, the room of Lost Souls, the room of Evil Ambiance, the Hall of Masks, the Chamber of Unearthly Horrors, a bizarre alternate universe, the secret séance room, The Dining Room of Death, the crazed scientist’s laboratory, the Unholy Chapel, the mortuary, the mausoleum, the catacombs, and a torture chamber. As she explored there were several deadly traps to be eluded and many unfathomably fiendish monsters to be battled and destroyed.
Harry searched the right wing of the castle where he found the game room, a yoga room, an exquisite tea room, a fabulous ballroom, a candy making kitchen, a room filled with Moldyfart’s gigantic Barbie doll collection, a luxurious spa room, and the Fart Lord’s home entertainment room with a huge television.
When he entered that last room, Harry became terrified. There were more movie posters! They were to some of the most awful movies known to man. And there was a voice, even though the television wasn’t on! The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, when he heard the disembodied voice whisper, “The horror. The horror.”
Harry couldn’t stand it another minute, he dashed from the hideous room. He ran down the hall and back to the entrance foyer, where he met Hermione again. She knew immediately something was amiss. She could tell by Harry’s more pallid than usual complexion.
She asked, “What’s wrong?”
He answered, “Oh, it was horrible. Just ghastly! This place is worse than I ever could have imagined.”
She agreed, “I know what you mean.”
Harry disagreed, “No, I don’t think you do.”
“Why? What did you find?”
“Words elude me. I don’t even know how to express it.”
“Oh, my goodness! That bad?”
“It was the worst decorated room, I’ve ever seen in my life!”
Hermione laughed and hit Harry playfully on the arm. She said, “Oh, Harry, you really had me going there for a second.”
“I’m serious, Hermione! The room was so badly decorated, it was audible! I heard it saying, ‘The horror! The horror!’”
“You lost me. Just what are you talking about?”
Harry shrugged and said, “I guess you’ll just have to take a look for yourself. Follow me.”
He led her to the entertainment room.
Hermione went in, but did not experience the same thing as Harry. Though the movies posters were indeed terrible, it wasn’t like she had to endure the movies themselves. That would have been much worse. And there was no whispering voice. It wasn’t such a bad room. It was rather cozy and lived-in compared to many of the rooms she had been in earlier.
She said, “I don’t hear anything.”
Harry peeked in. He heard it again. The whispering voice said, “The horror, the horror.”
He swallowed and said, “
Yikes! Didn’t you hear it just now?”
Hermione said, “I didn’t hear anything.”
The disembodied voice said, “Who’s there?”
Harry suddenly realized, it was not English he was hearing. It was Morsel-Tongue.”
He replied, “Just me. Harry Putter.”
The voice said, “Eat me, Harry Putter! Please, for the love of God, put an end to this eternal nightmare. Eat me!”
Hermione couldn’t hear any of the lengthy conversation that followed. It took place in frequencies beyond the normal human capacity to discern. However, Harry told her to be quiet while he conversed with a stale, half-eaten tub of popcorn on a shelf. Even so, she was bewildered as to how long her friend could spend wasting his time supposedly talking to food. In exasperation, she interrupted several times, asking Harry to hurry up. She didn’t realize it was the single most important conversation in Harry’s life. The half-eaten tub of popcorn was the first Hoaxcrock made by the Fart Lord long ago, and what it knew was simply astounding.
At first, the popcorn begged for Harry to destroy it outright. However, Harry was in no hurry to comply. He had a hunch the popcorn knew some vital information and could tell Harry something helpful. He persisted in asking it questions.
The popcorn was a reluctant informant. First, it made Harry promise that he would destroy it and put an end to its unending misery.
Next, it fully explained hoaxcrocks to Harry. Hoaxcrocks occur by watching any M. Night Shyamalan movie in its entirety. When subjected to such hideous plot flaws, highly melodramatic themes, wildly outlandish exaggerations, cool visual cinematography, and if you are unfortunate enough to make it to the end of the movie for the gratuitous plot twist, it always fractures the soul. Soul fragments will then take refuge in nearby objects, usually ones being held at the critical moment. (Please be warned, if you have ever watched any of his movies from beginning to end, your soul may have trouble finding eternal peace, but likely, you already knew that.)
Anyone’s first Hoaxcrock is likely to be a tragic accident. The half-eaten tub of popcorn was no exception. And it almost didn’t happen. In the middle of the movie, Signs, the Fart Lord made himself more comfortable. He lied down on the sofa and in doing so, the remote control became out of easy reach. Had he moved the remote control with him as he shifted and kept it within arm’s length, he would have eventually turned the movie off.
Instead, he continued to watch. Moldyfart was, of course, holding his tub of popcorn at the critical moment of the movie. When it was over, the Fart Lord recognized immediately the impact on his soul. He realized at once the powerful consequences of splitting his soul. He already knew a lot about possession of another human being. And he knew that a portion of his soul could be used to restore him to life after death. He understood that a form of immortality was in his grasp, literally. He decided at once to make more hoaxcrocks. The only drawback was that he would have to watch other movies by the same director.
Of course, he also realized the leftover popcorn could not be discarded, but must be saved forever. And so, his first hoaxcrock remained on a shelf in the entertainment room, where it was subjected to all of M. Night Shyamalan’s movies, some of them on multiple occasions. Is it any wonder that it was reduced to pathetically calling out over and over, “The horror. The horror!”
And because it was always in the entertainment room, it knew about many evil acts perpetrated by Moldyfart. The most insidious of which was when he wickedly declared Tuesday night to be movie night. His movie buddy laughed evilly and agreed. Each Tuesday, for the following several months, Shameonus Finnigan abberated over to watch horrible motion pictures with Moldyfart. Tuesday nights became dreaded and despised by the tub of old popcorn.
Harry asked, “Wait? Shameonus Finnigan? He’s the Fart Lord’s movie buddy?”
The stale popcorn confirmed it.
Harry’s old roommate at Hogwashes was not only Lord Moldyfart’s movie-watching pal, he was one his many hoaxcrocks – a living hoaxcrock. Then Harry vaguely remembered, his roommate used to go out on Tuesday nights. He used to always happily say the same thing, “I’m going out to visit my chum. I’ll be back in a couple.”
Harry seethed, “Shameonus Finnigan must die!”
Hermione perked up and asked, “What? Why?”
Harry said, “Never mind, I’ll tell you later.”
The stale popcorn knew a lot about the other hoaxcrocks and there were more than anyone would have ever imagined. In that very room there were several. The barcalounger in the corner was a hoaxcrock. There was a curio cabinet in another corner and inside a moldy half eaten tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream – Everything but the Kitchen Sink. It was a hoaxcrock. The leftover box of Raisinettes? A hoaxcrock. And the pair of 3-D glasses from going to see Avatar: the last Airbender? Duh! Of course, it was a hoaxcrock. The popcorn was even aware of the presence of the stolen pair of light-up sneakers. Hermione was still wearing them at that moment. The popcorn confirmed, the pair was also a pair of hoaxcrocks.
Yet, there were so many hoaxcrocks, even the tub of popcorn couldn’t remember of all of them. In fact, the Fart Lord himself would not be able to keep track of them all, if it weren’t for “The Master List.”
Harry asked, “And just where is The Master List?”
The popcorn told him, “Moldyfart keeps it in one of the most secret hiding places known to mankind – under his mattress upstairs.”
When Harry told Hermione all that he had found out, she was shocked. She quickly tried to remember if she had accidentally made any hoaxcrocks herself. She felt a surge of relief as she realized, she hadn’t ever watched more than a few scenes of any of Shyamalan’s movies before becoming disgusted and turning it off.
When he got to the part about the mattress, she laughingly said, “Under the mattress! How stupid can you get?”
When they were finished asking the tub of popcorn all their questions, Harry made good on his promise. He turned the gas fireplace on, and tossed the tub in to burn. A moment later, the popcorn released its portion of Moldyfart’s soul and finally found peace.
Next, Harry tossed the moldy tub of ice cream in the fire. Hermione tossed in the 3-D glasses. However, when the box of Raisinettes realized it was next, it spoke up. It said, “You can’t destroy me that way!”
Harry stopped and asked, “What do you mean?”
The Raisinettes smugly replied, “I can only be destroyed in the volcanic fires of Mt. Doom!”
Harry skeptically answered, “All right, in you go.”
The Raisinettes cried out, “Wait! Would you believe, in the fire of the candy-making kitchen where I was first crafted?”
Harry responded, “Not for a second.”
He was on the verge of tossing the box into the flames. Once more it called out, “Wait!”
The teenager sighed and asked, “What, now?”
The Raisinettes replied, “Take a closer look and you’ll see.”
Harry peered into the dark box. All he saw was Raisinettes. He asked, “What?”
But, there was no reply.
He removed his glasses and bent the cardboard box to let more light in and peered closer still.
“Get ‘em, boys!” yelled a Raisinette as it shot forth and hit Harry in the eyeball. Another said, “Run for your life!” It plinked Harry’s nose.
He tossed the box in the fireplace and stepped on the two rolling Raisinettes.
One of the squished morsels of candy said, “Drat.”
The other said, “Darn.”
For good measure, Harry scrapped them off the bottom of his sneaker and flicked them into the flames.
The barcalounger was not going to be so easy.
Harry said, “Too bad we don’t have that pole axe from Grim Old Place. That would have been perfect for smashing this thing up so we can fit it in the fireplace.”
Hermione asked, “We don’t?”
She reached into Saint Nick’s sack and pulled out a pole-axe-shape
d present. She offered it to Harry and said, “Merry Christmas, Harry! I know it’s something you can use.”
Harry replied, “You shouldn’t have! Well, actually, I was hoping you might do the honors. I’d like to go explore upstairs and see if I can find The Master List.”
Hermione sighed, “Sure, I’ll just be the man of the house and chop this thing up for you, you big woofter.”
Harry laughed and said, “I knew I could count on you.”
He stopped for a moment on the staircase and watched Hermione whale with the pole axe on the barcalounger as it yelled, “No!” and tried to run away. Harry shook his head, and thought, “Now the furniture is talking.”
He turned. As he departed, he heard Hermione ruthlessly say, “Take that!”
There was loud whack and a feeble cry of dismay.
There were many bedrooms on the second floor of the mansion. Harry thought he was looking for the master bedroom. However, when he finally found it, it wasn’t the right bedroom at all. It did not have a lived-in look to it. More importantly, it did not have a slip of paper under the mattress.
The bedroom Harry was looking for was the one with the NASCAR racing car bed in it. Harry reached under the mattress and pulled out a slip of paper. He said, “Bingo!”
However, Harry was not paying attention to a monstrous reptile in the room. Just then Snakey, Moldyfart’s pet, a giant anaconda, latched onto Harry’s leg with its strong jaws. Fortunately for Harry, the anaconda is not a poisonous snake. Unfortunately for Harry, the anaconda prefers to crush it’s victims in the strong muscular coils of its body. Harry tried to get his wand out from his robe pocket, however, he fumbled in his efforts. His body was tossed about as the giant snake began to loop itself around Harry’s legs and torso. He fell. His wand slipped from his grasp and rolled on the floor.
He tried to call out for help, but it was already too late. His lungs weren’t able to draw in enough air to carry his voice all the way downstairs. He stretched for his wand, but it had rolled just out of his reach. He tried again in vain to call for help. It was useless. He could barely gasp for air. His lungs labored taking short rapid breaths. He was in a panic. The snake squeezed harder still. Now he was suffocating.
Harry Putter & the Deathly Hairballs Page 10