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Description
Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: Just read the first chapter’s.

~*~*~

Chapter Two : I Cry Because You Yodel

~*~*~

“Mate, is that you?” Ron looked sidelong at Harry as they carried the trunk between them.  Hedwig hooted and flapped in her cage.

“Are we gonna walk all the way to your house?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded.  “Yeah, but we can be there by the next sentence, so it doesn’t really matter.”

The Burrow loomed ahead of them.  “See?” Ron said.  “My house is looming.”

“Quite convenient,” Harry nodded approvingly.  “These fiction writers don’t fool around, do they?”

Ron shook his head.  “Not typically.”

Harry then looked thoughtful.  “But...isn’t looming a bad thing? It makes me think of Snape.”

“Yeah, he is quite a loomer, isn’t he?” Ron asked, his tone conceding agreement.  “He’s quite a nutter, too, now that I think about it...”

They entered the house.  “Come on, we can put your things in my room,” Ron said.  As they headed for the stairs, Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

“Harry, dear, how good to see you.  Ron, how dare you breathe?” she said.

“Hi, Mum,” Ron said wearily.  “You know, one of these days I’m going to gun down a postal office and you’re going to ask yourself, ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and the police will tell you...”

Harry interrupted.  “It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

“Oof!” Ron said, and looked annoyed at his friend.  He was about to say something before he was hit in the head by a furry, screeching tennis ball.  Then by his owl, Pig.

“Hey, Ron, you caught it! Jolly good,” Fred said, galumphing down the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley shook a finger at him.  “No galumphing in the house.”

Ron winced and rubbed his head, glaring at his older brother.  “What was that thing, anyway?”

“Couldn’t ya tell, Ronnie-kins?” George asked as he came downstairs as well.  “It was a furry, screeching tennis ball.”

“Well of course it was,” Ron said with a shrug.

“Is that thing going to figure into the plot?” Harry asked.

The twins looked at each other.  “We’ll see what we can do,” Fred replied.  And off the two galumphed, taking their tennis ball with them.

Mrs. Weasley watched them go, exasperated.  She sniffed the air.  “Dear, is that you?” she asked Harry.  Just then the front door opened, and Mr. Weasley entered.

“Hullo, all,” he said cheerfully.  “Harry!  How good to see you!  Perhaps you can help me.”  He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and dug into the pocket of his overcoat.  “Look what I found just outside the Ministry.”  He withdrew an empty can of squeeze cheese.  “Exactly what is this for, Harry?”

“Squeeze cheese.”

“Squeeze cheese?  Squeeze cheese...by Jove, that’s rather fun to say, isn’t it?  Squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squee-...”

He was cut off by Ron slapping his hand over his mouth. “Yes, Dad, it’s a regular laugh-a-minute to say that over and over.”

“Mph,” Mr. Weasley agreed.  He repocketed the can.  Slowly Ron took his hand away, looking at his father warily.  “But what does one _do_ with it?” he persisted, causing his son to look thoughtful.

“Well...uh...” Harry began, a little unsure how exactly to explain the intricacies of Cheez Whiz, “you...you push down the little white top and artificially colored and flavored cheesy food product squirts out onto a cracker.  Then you eat it.”

“And Muggles actually _like_ it?” Mr. Weasley asked, unconvinced.

“I didn’t say they _like_ it, I just said they _eat_ it,” Harry answered.  “Kind of like Spam.”

Ron was the curious one this time.  “Spam?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.  “You just made that up!”

Harry shook his head.  “No, I didn’t.  Spam is a canned meat-like substance.  It’s pink and it’s always in the shape of the can no matter what you do to it...and it has flecks of animal parts spattered all over it.  Dudley loves the stuff...it’s American.”

“Ah, well, that explains it,” Mr. Weasley nodded, satisfied. “I must get a full can of this squeegee stuff and a can of this...er...canned meat-like substance. I wonder how they’d taste together...”

Ron made a face but decided against editorializing.  Harry shuddered at the thought of Cheez Whiz on Spam.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.  Both boys swallowed.

~*~*~

Eww...Cheez Whiz and Spam...if any of you weirdos out there actually _try_ that, please tell me so. Otherwise, just review.

Description
Harry Potter and the Blatant Copyright Infringement!

Disclaimers: Just read the first chapter’s.

~*~*~

Chapter Two : I Cry Because You Yodel

~*~*~

“Mate, is that you?” Ron looked sidelong at Harry as they carried the trunk between them.  Hedwig hooted and flapped in her cage.

“Are we gonna walk all the way to your house?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded.  “Yeah, but we can be there by the next sentence, so it doesn’t really matter.”

The Burrow loomed ahead of them.  “See?” Ron said.  “My house is looming.”

“Quite convenient,” Harry nodded approvingly.  “These fiction writers don’t fool around, do they?”

Ron shook his head.  “Not typically.”

Harry then looked thoughtful.  “But...isn’t looming a bad thing? It makes me think of Snape.”

“Yeah, he is quite a loomer, isn’t he?” Ron asked, his tone conceding agreement.  “He’s quite a nutter, too, now that I think about it...”

They entered the house.  “Come on, we can put your things in my room,” Ron said.  As they headed for the stairs, Mrs. Weasley entered the room.

“Harry, dear, how good to see you.  Ron, how dare you breathe?” she said.

“Hi, Mum,” Ron said wearily.  “You know, one of these days I’m going to gun down a postal office and you’re going to ask yourself, ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and the police will tell you...”

Harry interrupted.  “It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

“Oof!” Ron said, and looked annoyed at his friend.  He was about to say something before he was hit in the head by a furry, screeching tennis ball.  Then by his owl, Pig.

“Hey, Ron, you caught it! Jolly good,” Fred said, galumphing down the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley shook a finger at him.  “No galumphing in the house.”

Ron winced and rubbed his head, glaring at his older brother.  “What was that thing, anyway?”

“Couldn’t ya tell, Ronnie-kins?” George asked as he came downstairs as well.  “It was a furry, screeching tennis ball.”

“Well of course it was,” Ron said with a shrug.

“Is that thing going to figure into the plot?” Harry asked.

The twins looked at each other.  “We’ll see what we can do,” Fred replied.  And off the two galumphed, taking their tennis ball with them.

Mrs. Weasley watched them go, exasperated.  She sniffed the air.  “Dear, is that you?” she asked Harry.  Just then the front door opened, and Mr. Weasley entered.

“Hullo, all,” he said cheerfully.  “Harry!  How good to see you!  Perhaps you can help me.”  He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and dug into the pocket of his overcoat.  “Look what I found just outside the Ministry.”  He withdrew an empty can of squeeze cheese.  “Exactly what is this for, Harry?”

“Squeeze cheese.”

“Squeeze cheese?  Squeeze cheese...by Jove, that’s rather fun to say, isn’t it?  Squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squeeze cheese squee-...”

He was cut off by Ron slapping his hand over his mouth. “Yes, Dad, it’s a regular laugh-a-minute to say that over and over.”

“Mph,” Mr. Weasley agreed.  He repocketed the can.  Slowly Ron took his hand away, looking at his father warily.  “But what does one _do_ with it?” he persisted, causing his son to look thoughtful.

“Well...uh...” Harry began, a little unsure how exactly to explain the intricacies of Cheez Whiz, “you...you push down the little white top and artificially colored and flavored cheesy food product squirts out onto a cracker.  Then you eat it.”

“And Muggles actually _like_ it?” Mr. Weasley asked, unconvinced.

“I didn’t say they _like_ it, I just said they _eat_ it,” Harry answered.  “Kind of like Spam.”

Ron was the curious one this time.  “Spam?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.  “You just made that up!”

Harry shook his head.  “No, I didn’t.  Spam is a canned meat-like substance.  It’s pink and it’s always in the shape of the can no matter what you do to it...and it has flecks of animal parts spattered all over it.  Dudley loves the stuff...it’s American.”

“Ah, well, that explains it,” Mr. Weasley nodded, satisfied. “I must get a full can of this squeegee stuff and a can of this...er...canned meat-like substance. I wonder how they’d taste together...”

Ron made a face but decided against editorializing.  Harry shuddered at the thought of Cheez Whiz on Spam.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen.  Both boys swallowed.

~*~*~

Eww...Cheez Whiz and Spam...if any of you weirdos out there actually _try_ that, please tell me so. Otherwise, just review.