Yo ho, yo ho

Today I am going to tell you about the pink room in my house.

When I was nine years old, my mum decided that she wanted to redecorate her office, which is on the third floor of our house. And since she was pretty brilliant with charms, this wouldn't have normally been a problem. However, the book she got have the pronunciation wrong, wrong, and instead of the robin's egg blue that she wanted, the charm turned the walls a magnificently horrid shade of hot pink or magenta.

She tried to fix it, but the charm is apparently permanent. So now, my office is located in what is officially known as the Jesus Christ, Woman, Why Did You Pick This Color?! room, or, Holy Fuck It's Pink! room.

And to the fuckface who complained about the amount of paperwork in Auror training, thanks. It's been doubled this week.

I had to bury another snail today. They just kept dying and I couldn't figure it out - I just bought a new one, hoping I would do better. Alas. No dice. I found Gary V in his his cage today. When I picked him up and held him, he didn't move. No rasping. Nothing. Dead.

So I buried him, and as I eased my grief with a cup of tea and a proper fry up, I talked to Aunt Catriona. She told me I was a damned fool for mourning a snail. She also told me that it was a shame that I keep them inside all the time and never let them get any fresh air.

So, she went on to tell me, she did me the favor of taking the cage outside and setting it in the garden, when he had the company of other snails.

Now, Gary was an Archatina iredalei, a Giant African Land Snail. All of them have been. And since they are not native to Britain, it isn't good for their health to be outside. For one, it's too cold. Second, native snails of Britain can carry diseases that can be fatal to them.

So, my aunt is a sort of death eater for snails snail killer, albeit an unintentional one. But she knows now and says that with Gary VI she will not remove him from the house.

She also believes I should get a "real" pet. Fie, I say. Fie.

Well, all the ickle brats are off to Hogwarts. At least, the ones that are old enough for it. The rest of 'em are still running around and driving me mad.

Right. Fishing tomorrow. For tonight, the pub. I'm hitting The Leaky and only fuck knows where else. Potter? Weasley? Cho? Anyone? If you're not there, then you're fucking pansies.

( Eddie Carmichael )