The Hairy Potter

Gandalf pulled over at the nearest gas station. He got out of his brand new Prius and went inside the store to get a Snickers bar.

They were out of Snickers bars.

He sighed…if not for the bet he had made with Dumbledore—to see who could last the longest in not using magic to conjure up muggle products. They’d let him do it in Gondor, but noooo, stupid Dumbledore had eyes everywhere in this land. Where was that Dumbledore fellow anyway? He hadn’t seen him for quite some time now, ever since he met that funny looking fellow called Foldawart or something. And then that other lad…some hairy potter of some sort…

Gandalf sighed again. He really wanted that Snickers bar. Screw it, he thought to himself. He’s Gandalf for crap’s sake. He could have a damn candy bar whenever the hell he wanted a damn candy bar. He didn’t go to The Ultimate Wizard’s School for Ultimate Wizards for nothing. How could Dumbledore possibly find out?

He began to head towards the door of the store when suddenly, it opened from the other side. And who else but the hairy potter himself to show up.

Gandalf tried to turn away quickly, but it was too late. Shit, Gandalf thought. He had seen him.

“Yo nigga! Hey, ‘member me?”

Gandalf sighed again…what a stupid kid.

“Oh, hello there potter boy,” he responded politely.

“It’s Harold to you, old man,” the boy responded cockily. He still hadn’t taken off his sunglasses. ”What’re you doin here anyway?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just leaving in fact.” It began to rain outside. The sun hadn’t been out all day.

“Swaggg,” Hairy said as he walked past.

Gandalf stopped and turned around. “What?”

“Eh?” Hairy turned back. “Oh, naw, I just said swag is all.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Swag.”

“Oh…nothin nothin, nevermind.”

“No, I want to know.”

“Yeah?" Hairy laughed. “Whatevss,” and he turned back around.

“Hey!” Gandalf shouted.

Harold rolled his eyes and turned back. “What?”

Gandalf’s fist was in his face before he saw it coming.

“SHIT OLD MAN. WHAT THE HELL ARE Y’DOIN? You broke my shades damn it.” He was holding the pieces and staring at them.

He punched him in the face again.

“SHIT. STOP IT DAMN IT.”

“Make me,” Gandalf laughed.

Hairy began to draw his wand. Gandalf laughed again.

“Not man enough?” he taunted.

Hairy threw his wand aside and launched himself at Gandalf. The old man dodged him, but the kid still managed to grab hold of his beard. He pulled and Gandalf’s face went smashing into a bottle of gin behind the counter and he fell to the floor. The terrified store clerk had already run away. Gandalf lay on the floor as Hairy looked into a piece of broken glass, trying to fix his nose. Under the counter, Gandalf saw the traditional store clerk’s shotgun. Quietly, he grabbed it and then shot Hairy in the foot.

With a girlish yelp Hairy fell to the floor crying.

With one last kick to the gut of the sobbing potter, Gandalf grabbed a bottle of scotch and left the store, shotgun still in hand.