"Now it's time for so long..." thank god "...but we'll sing just one more song..." I hate this part "thanks for doin your part, you sure are smart..." yeah, smart for a bunch of rambling idiots "you know with me and you, and my dog Blue, we can do anything, that we wanna do. God, I hate my job," Steve said this last bit outloud as the cameras cut off.
"Steve, I need to talk to you!" The director yelled, running over to him.
"What, is it now, Jack? I'd rather get out of here,"Steve groaned.
"Its just that...well I noticed that you seem to be drunk again and..."
"I am not drunk!" Steve shouted indignantly, his eyes glazing over a bit. `
"Steve, you scidooed into the wall five feet from the painting this time, that's a new record, I think."
"No, actually the record is seven feet, remember the christmas party last year?"
"Oh yea, how could I forget...we all saw parts of you that were really...umm...unecessary."
"But I thought we were playing strip poker!"
"No, no actually we were playing uno...but that's not what I wanted to discuss. We have all come to recognize your drinking as a problem, and we would like you to get some help. You're not getting fired, we are just asking you to take a little vacation. We have it all arranged, there is this little rehab clinic over in the UK, we're willing to pay for it and everything."
"You're getting rid of me?"
"It's just temporary, only as long as it takes for you to get cleaned up."
"What about the show? I'm the star, and you can't just cancel it temporarily."
"That is already taken care of. Our writers have created a scenario where you go off to college and your brother, Joe, will take over the show...ah and here comes our new star now." Just then a slightly taller man with a bowl cut and small gap between his two front teeth walked up. "Steve, I would like you to meet Joe, your replacement."
This can't be happening. There is no possible way this dork can take my place. "Hello there Joe! It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job with the show while I'm gone," Steve said, forcing a smile.
"I'm Joe, and I'm happy...or else," The man replied with a glazed look in his eyes.
"Err...or else what?"
"Or else they'll shock me again...oh no, I just said something not happy!" Joe shrieked, frantically looking around.
Steve followed his gaze to a man standing just off to the left of them, listening in on the conversation. He appeared to be holding a remote control. Joe's eyes widened in fear. "No! don't push the button, I promise, I'll be happier! No...ouch!!!!!!!!!!!"He yelped in pain.
"I think you're right, Jack, I do need a little vacation. When do I leave?" Steve asked the director, both of them ignoring Joe's whimpers of pain.
"We have a plane ticket for tomorrow night at 7, can you be ready by then?"
"Anything to get me out of here."
"Now lets see here hmmm... who looks good to you, Minerva?"
"I'm rather partial to this Mr. Eric Wildmen. His qualifications are excellent."
"Yes, I was looking at him, too. And there is the fact that he is willing to teach here, which is always a plus," Dumbledore chuckled.
"Although he is from America, and that's a long way to travel. And won't Snape be angry that he hasn't been considered for the position again?"
"Yes, it is a long journey, but if he's willing to make it, I'll be glad to have him. After all, he is the most qualified for the job. As for Severus, I'll just have to explain to him, that if he were to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, we would have to find a new Potions teacher, and I can assure you there isn't anyone who can match his abbilities in that area."
"That is a brilliant idea, Albus, the flattery will shut him up in an instant. So it's decided then?"
"Yes, Professor Eric Wildmen will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"I'll go write up the letter immediately," McGonagall turned and left the room.
"Now Steve, listen to me very carefully. I put the directions to the clinic in your carry on bag, so you will know where to go when you get off the plane. It isn't that far from the airport, all you have to do is take the main highway..."
What is he talking about? I'm so smashed right now, I hope he doesn't yell at me again, I don't think I can take much more of that. Maybe if I pretend I'm paying attention...that's what I'll do. Just smile and nod...
"...and make another right, and you're there. Did you get all that?"
"Good. Well you better get on the plane now, have a nice trip."
Steve took his seat on the plane next to a young man who looked somewhat similar to himself. Damn, he got the window seat. The flight took a little over 5 hours, but in his drunken stupor, Steve found ways to amuse himself. Hehehe...I bet I can get another pretzel stick up his nose. That makes five already. I can't believe he hasn't woken up yet.
"Excuse me sir, but what are you doing?"The flight attendant asked, looking down at him strangely.
"It appears that you were sticking pretzels up that sleeping man's nose."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were, I just saw you."
"Look woman, I don't even have pretzels!"
"Then what's that bag you're holding there in your hand?"
Steve looked down at the bag for a moment, then quickly threw it backward, showering the passengers behind him in pretzel sticks. After the flight attendant helped the poor unsuspecting victims clean up themselves and the surrounding area, she turned back to Steve. "Now that you are done playing, would you like anything off the cart?"
"Yes, actually, I'll have a Quarter Pounder with cheese, supersize the fries, and lets see...better make that a diet coke. After all, I have to keep up with my girlish figure," he finshed, slurring his words a bit. Then he gave her what he obviously thought was his most charming smile.
She cried out in frustration and stalked off, leaving him to laugh at the joke he had just made.
As the plane came to a screeching halt, Eric Wildmen woke up, dazed and confused as he already was, to discover that there were pretzels sticking out of his nose. He turned to the man next to him, who had dozed off only five minutes earlier, and roughly shook him awake, soon learning that he would regret those actions for years to come.
Steve woke up violently punching with every ounce of energy he had in him. Oh no, they're coming to try and take me away again! I won't go without a fight! He thought stupidly. He gave a satisfied whoop as his fist connected with something solid and opened his eyes to find a man sprawled unconcious on the floor.
"Oops...sorry there, sir. Here, let me get your bag for you." He reached up and started tugging at the heavy briefcase.
It came crashing down on top of Steve's head. With a dull thud he hit the floor, falling into unconciousness himself. He awoke 5 minutes later, to stare around at his surroundings in a confused manner. Where am I...wait...who am I? He looked down at the briefcase on his chest. Eric Wildmen...is that who I am? What a pansy-ass name. I feel really, really sorry for myself right now. Steve struggled to get up. As he got off the plane, he looked around at the many people holding signs with names on them. He walked up to an unnaturally large man holding a sign which read Eric Wildmen on it. He looked from the sign, to the briefcase, and back to the sign again.
"Would you happen to be Professor Wildmen?" The giant of a man asked.
"I'm Hagrid, I'll be taking you to Hogwarts."
He's taking me where?
"Well, let's go get your bags, we have a long journey ahead of us."
*45 minutes later*
"Do any of these bags look familiar, professor?" Hagrid asked, desperate to get out of the airport, where everyone kept glancing strangely at him.
Oh shit, I have no freakin clue which one is mine. "Uhhh...it's that one." Steve pointed to a large red suitcase.
He then pulled a small bottle of rum out of a side pocket in his jacket.
"Is that some sort of potion, professor?" Hagrid asked curiously.
"Potion?...Why yes, it's my special happy potion," Steve said, taking a long drink.
Soon Hagrid was carrying Steve off the train and toward the carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. Steve, who could no longer walk, was singing at the top of his lungs. "Blue moooooooooooooooooooooooon, you lef me standin alooooooooooooooone...withow a song in mah heaaaaarrrrrrt...c'mon Hagrid, sing with me!"
"I'd rather not, professor."
"Here, you need some of my special happy potion," Steve said, handing Hagrid the bottle of rum.
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