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[icon] Marcus Flint: Not A Troll At All
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Current Music:Sounds like a cat is eating a bum outside
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Time:08:24 pm
Current Mood:sicksick
Earlier today, I was the victim of a near-death accident.

I barely made it out with my life.













Stupid bar-top. Stupid hangover.
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Time:09:27 pm
Current Mood:drunkdrunk
Quddiwitch.

Ezce ent spart hat iz.

dont yuo think??

i haevnt ben drikng i swar!1

mizz hat spot.
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Time:07:46 pm
Current Mood:nostalgicnostalgic
I'm really in a mood for some quidditch.

I miss those days.

Really should start working out to see if I can even make a 2nd or even a 3rd string by the time spring rolls around.

I really miss quidditch.
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Time:08:29 pm
Current Mood:aggravatedaggravated
Do you know how startling it is to have to try to calm down two old hags who insist that a bear appeared under their table and than ran out of the door?

Do you?

I swear, old hags should not be allowed wands. That goes for both the old and the hags. All women too, now if I really want to make the world a better place.

You know what they did with their wands?

They waved them around, of course. And since they were excited they caused some damage to this run down old coop.

Oh yes, the impossible has occurred.

Now, exactly what did they do?

Well, for one thing, their wands pointed up so they had the plumbing go askew --- I did not have to clean that up, thank goodness and personally I do not care --- which was the first thing that I noticed as you would too if you noticed a loud rumbling and hear a cry of, "I SWEAR, THESE BLOODY ENGLISH LOOS WORK BACKWARDS," from where said rumbling took place . . . You get the picture.

I didn't bother to see what else had done askew as I proudly threw down the tablet I was carrying around and proclaimed that it was long past time for my break.

I swear on Merlin's beard, if those old hags or any other old hags decide to make that a routine occurrence, wands will be snapped.
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Subject:I just can never win, can I?
Time:02:06 pm
Current Mood:rushedrushed
What is with it owls and having them wake me up in the morning?

Those bloody birds . . . You know, if they didn't fly off right when I woke up, I'd have some owl meat for breakfast. Meat . . . When was the last time I had you? . . . Please go on sale soon . . .

I had several of them this morning, five to be exact. I don't believe I've received so many pieces of mail that did not contain a howler in years. Talk about checking the name on the front to make sure that it was meant for me and not the bum that lives under my window.

The letters appear to be from the same person -- no two people could have that bad handwriting plus horrid spelling . . . What did they do, get Cousin Edgar write it out? -- and all say the same thing.

"KEP N I OUT @ DA LEAKY 4 PPL THAT R ENEMIEZ"

Roughly translated: "Keep an eye out ... at the (I think) Leaky for people that are enemies."

This, of course, means one person . . . well, maybe not one person, but one main person . . .

As if they expect someone like Dumbledore or damn Potter to just stroll into the Leaky and go, "Hey, Flint. You know, I'm an enemy," with an eyebrow wiggle?

Or, perhaps, even a "Hey, Marcus . . . I'm an enemy, but if you can forget that for one night's worth of passion," with a wiggle of the . . .

Ireallyhavetogonow.
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Subject:Sweet Merlin on a piece of buttered toast.
Time:12:27 pm
Current Mood:thirstythirsty
I ...

A second ago, I could have swore I saw damn Wood come into the Leaky but it turned up to be an old hag instead.

This may call for glasses as I can't very well live my exciting what a lie and fun that's an even bigger lie life and see damn Wood each time an old hag walks by.

I still haven't gave him whatever Pansy wanted me too ... Thanks for something of the other ... Her acting like I'm her bell boy ... Still can't believe that ... Why is that I remember this stupid thing now and I can't even remember ... ?

I really need a drink and it's barely after lunch.
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Current Music:More "Bang!" and "Ping!" sounds fron the gangs of the streets
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Subject:This hasn't been my week.
Time:10:43 pm
Current Mood:thirstythirsty
It really hasn't.

I had worked my shift this past Sunday night - who would want to come during the holidays to a ... Oh, I would - and went out for a drink. All according to plan.

Wrong.

Right as I had only a few minutes left of my shift, this uppity old hag walks into the Leaky, demands a drink that even I have not heard of, plus "the most luxurious rooms". Yes, rooms.

At first, I thought she was just nuts. Crazy old hag escaping Mungo's. That wouldn't be too surprising these days, right? Seems like half the people I know are being sent there.

I look at her with a questioning look as I didn't see any brats tugging at her cloak and went "Rooms?"

She gives me the look as if "Youaresobelowmeyoupieceofdirt" and decides that she must turn her nose at me. I leaned over the bar and saw ... a Merlin be-damned pureblood bloody French poodle.

You see, I never have been much of a dog person. The kids at Slytherin can attest to that as many a lecture was held about how evil they were.

Seeing that stupid dog triggered the old memory that I had. I believe it was one of the earliest ones that I have and certainly one of the ones that I do wish someone would take away from me.

I was only three at the time, being watched over by my grandmother whose pride and joy was her purebred French poodle. She had left the room for about an half an hour - I suppose, I was only three, how as I to keep track of time? - and I fell asleep like she had wanted me too.

What she did not want me to do nor did she expect that I would fall asleep on her pride and joy. Eventually smothering the stupid dog to death.

Needless to say that we haven't been on the best of terms since.

Back to the old hag nagging me.

She wanted a "luxury room" for her dog. This was a first as how many times do you hear of a crazy old hag with dogs? It is always cats. I like cats.

I was a bit shocked, but figured she would at least give me a tip for not raising who knows what I decided too. She didn't. The old hag didn't.

I don't know who had to clean up that room the dog had but I do hope they sterilized the place.

I didn't even bother getting drunk then. I just went straight home, dodged a few curses and some ... muggle weapon - I suppose - that made quite a loud noise and made a 'Ping!' off the lampposts.

Then, add in Christmas ... That was a huge mess.

[Block to Slytherins]

Christmas. I ... You all moan and groan about your families and how you didn't get the biggest diamond or the fastest broom for gifts ... Or you all better not, considering that is exactly what I heard during my years.

This year's was something like no other.

My relatives are of the eccentric sort, as you all are doomed to know.

I had to spend my time entertaining my cousin Edgar which I know is half-troll as the prat is already as tall as me and he is only seven. I'm big boned myself and there is no way 'big boned' could be used as an excuse for him.

In addition to that, Father decided to take me away from the slobbering idiot and gave me a lecture that I will no doubt hear again sometime soon in a howler.

Seems as he is convinced that even the Crabbe and Goyle families are about to have their boys join up and I haven't been accepted yet.

This is a very low time as I suppose that the only reason why they would get in there is that they could provide to be useful ... bouncers of the sort. I don't see why I couldn't, I'm fit, I'm tall, I'm wickedly dashing and stunning.

Oh, what a time, what a time.

Half way into my visit, all of the males over the age of 15, decided to "Oh! The Dark Lord is calling us! We must go!" to leave me with all of the sobbing women - which, might I add, they were sobbing as they were proud - about how "our men are fighting a noble cause" nonsense.

The only one that wasn't was Mother and that was probably because she knew that I was about to make some new game trophies to hang up in the corridors.

The visit with her wasn't all that bad. She again lectured me about how my "lifestyle is going to kill" me. Drinking away my life isn't that bad of a way to go, I think. At least when I go, it'll because I actually think there is a light at the end of the tunnel instead of that bullshit that muggles make over about "crossing over".

Sweet Merlin, I need a drink just thinking about that day.
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Time:04:42 pm
Current Mood:pessimisticpessimistic
I miss being able to drink the days away.

That was my only hobby one of my favourite hobbies.

Now, I work.

I want my hobby back, damnit.
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Subject:I've seen hours that I haven't seen since Hogwarts
Time:07:00 pm
Current Mood:exhaustedexhausted
Work.

Work.

I loathe work.

It is completely horrid. It is something that I never considered myself low enough to take part in.

I have to ... bus tables, take orders, keep track of rooms, clean ... It is as if they are confusing myself for a house elf.

At least I came in with a dreary attitude which has turned into a gloom beyond all gloom. Most of my .... fellow .... coworkers seemed as if they were just mindless about what they were doing. One of them - a girl, can't remember - seems to actually enjoy it.

Must have been a Hufflepuff.

Surely.

I have tomorrow and Saturday off. Sunday afternoon, I'm working again. Again. This is simply another form of torture that has been devised by my family to put me through.

This only means that I have tonight, tomorrow night and then Saturday night to get pissed beyond all means of recognition. Perhaps this is all a bad hang-over potion gone wrong, hmm?
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Subject:I should sell my life as a book. The only problem would be that there would be too many climaxes as I am quite the well-experienced wizard...
Time:10:06 pm
Current Mood:satisfiedsatisfied
I'm doomed to work at the Leaky. This is just not what I was destined to do. Honestly.

As I am such the popular bloke - which, honestly, isn't that surprising - once again my old look has come up in a discussion on how bludgers make a great game.

Sadly, to Bones', Dodger's, and Wussy's fortune, I already have taken one to the head. Or more specifically, the mouth.

It is to no surprise that none of you ingrates know about it as I am an old man there is an age gap of several years between most of us. Or --- we were in separate houses.

Thus, the tale of how Marcus ruined his mouth by being a dedicated player, part one, begins.

I was 12 at the time, home for the summer, ready for my 2nd year and my birthday to come around ... I was practising Quidditch, as I needed to be on the team since they did not let 1st years Damn Wood for sucking up and getting precious Potter on his first year on and ... Well, I was flying with the quaffle, when one of the bludgers comes out from under my broom and gets me right under the jaw.

Oh god, the pain. Believe I passed out for a while though, seeing how I woke up in my room and Father was there looking like gold was oozing out of the walls ... A nurse - with a very odd uniform, I will imagine, seeing how I had quite the eyefull, or would have if my vision wasn't blurry, damn it who knows, I may have seen her working at the pubs these days - was there checking me and such and then waves around one of the biggest needles that I have ever seen in my life. I believe it was bigger then my hand.

What my mouth looked like for the rest of my time at Hogwarts is due mainly to my Father circumstances beyond my control.

This is where the sequel of the first where I finally have them ... fixed.

I had that as a present for passing my NEWTs, Mum and Father took me up to some medical clinic in France, had my teeth worked on for ... a long time.

The looks on the nurses was ... bad and the Medi-Wizard yelled (he rather sounded like a girl in that instance) and dropped his tray of instruments.

When I finally left, it looked as if I had come straight out of some woods that I was trapped in for days without a razor. They probably did have me in there for days, but it didn't matter to me. I was knocked out - which was really quite the familiar experience with finally drinking so much you pass out, complete with the feeling of nausea when you wake up.


That is my tale. It's only fair if Wood should have his turn plus he is far to 'pretty' for a 'straight boy' at bat.
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[icon] Marcus Flint: Not A Troll At All
View:Recent Entries.
View:Archive.
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View:Profile.
View:Website (Aparecium!).
You're looking at the latest 10 entries.
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