| boot_boy in nocturne_alley @ 2003-05-05 00:16:00 |
| Current mood: | heartbroken |
| Current music: | Chöcolate Frög : Kicked (In the Head) |
My date with Millicent Bulstrode
Finally I have recovered enough from my date with Millicent to drag myself to the computer lab. My body is a mass of bruises and I am still trembling uncontrollably. My recollections of the evening are blurred by the painkilling potions I have imbibed in the days since, but I shall endevour to recollect as best I can.
I met Millicent on the front steps of the school. Dean and Seamus kindly assisted me down the stairs as my hoop skirts and bustle made it difficult to walk. Millicent was strikingly attired in formfitting pleather robes. Her magnificent bust jutted forth like a dark mysterious continent on which I yearned to pioneer. I took her arm, and she shook me as a terrier might shake a rat. When I was limp and boneless, she pushed me ahead of her down the path to Hogsmeade.
I had made reservations for us at the Gasping Gargoyle, a distinguished French restaurant in the centre of the village. I had hoped we might while away the evening with pleasant small talk, but Millicent, taking a disliking to her own plate of fried kelpie feet, insisted on consuming both Seamus's coq au vin and Dean's boeuf a l'orange. When Dean attempted unwisely to put up a show of resistance, Millicent clocked him soundly with the chafing dish. Unfortunately, this had the effect of setting his new jacket on fire. Seamus attempted to lunge across the table at the fair Millicent. I defended her with my fondue fork, and scathing words were spoken. Dean's attempts to calm his enraged lover met with stony silence and Dean and Seamus left under a cloud of fury.
I had feared that this spelled the end of our pleasant evening, but Millicent seemed unmoved. After polishing off two cheese plates and the dessert tray, she turned to me, a dark fire burning in her eyes. I offered to take her to Zonko's and buy her anything her fancy desired, but she seemed uninterested. Instead she removed from her bosom the keys to an upstairs room at the Three Broomsticks and dangled them before my dazzled eyes. I could hardly believe my good fortune.
We raced to the Three Broomsticks. Once inside the room with the door locked, Millicent flung me against the wall, crushing my bustle, and expressed her determination to "ride me like a bad, bad pony." After that I must admit my recollection is blurred. I believe I screamed aloud as Millicent flung me from one end of the room to the other like a rag doll. All the while she contorted herself into the most extraordinary positions and seemed to expect me to do the same. At one point I distinctly remember my ankle being lodged firmly behind my ear while the heel of my other foot contacted my spine. Soon the excruciating pain and cataclysmic pleasure become too much for my overtaxed nervous system. I blacked out, to the accompaniment of Millicent's gleeful laughter.
When I awoke in the morning I was face-down, nude and covered in bruises, lying in a rain gutter outside the Three Broomsticks. Local children had gathered to point and laugh at me. I can only conclude that Millicent, having used me to satisfy her capricious whims, had abandoned me to show her cruel disdain.
My heart is broken.
Mysterious Millicent!
My honor you took,
My heart you rent!
My soul, it will implode.
O, Millicent Bulstrode!
Mysterious Millicent!
You left in the night like a crook
You ruined me in one moment
My body you roughly rode!
O, Millicent Bulstrode!
If anyone wants me I will be under the stairs.
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