December 30, 2005

• Hokay so.  I haven't been able to write anything new recently.  Too much living going on, I guess.  Not enough time to observe anything anymore.  However, I do write for this totally awesome underground newspaper for my school called millerlite. And since I'm too lazy and unskilled to think of anything original, I'm going to just post one of the articles I wrote. Keep in mind that you will probably only enjoy reading the following text if you're either a diehard Harry Potter fan or a student attending Millburn High.  Or if you just really, really love me.  .  There.  That was the first and last time I will ever use a xanga smiley face.  Bleh. Happy Holidays.

  
  

   

  
  

  Wizarding School Opens in Short Hills

  
  

   

  
  

  Due to the gradually increasing student population in Millburn and Short Hills, a new school has opened in the Short Hills area with the hopes of creating a more spacious learning environment.  “We’re all about learning here,” said a portly school official last Tuesday, “By allowing your child the opportunity to attend smaller classes and not die in a fatal crowded hallway incident, he or she would develop a more personal educational experience.   Hi mom.”

  
  

            

  
  

  However, the board members seized to mention any further details regarding the new school to anyone other than some random old woman living in Springfield.  So naturally, I tracked her down and tortured her cats until she spilled the beans.  What I found out was more than I initially bargained for. 

  
  

            

  
  

  The new school, Short Hills School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (SHSWW), is not only exceedingly hard to say five times fast, but is also an academic phenomenon.  The building itself is fantastically disguised as the Dunkin’ Donuts located in lower Glenwood.  All you have to do in order to enter the school is walk into Dunkin’ Donuts, go to bathroom 9 3/4, and flush your head down the toilet three times.  On the third try, you should find yourself sitting cozily by a fire in one of the school’s garishly decorated common rooms.  If that doesn’t happen, consider wiping the urine-reeking toilet water off your face and taking a trip to the nearest petting zoo. 

  
  

            

  
  

  Assuming you have entered the school, you would be immediately sent down to the auditorium to be sorted into one of four houses, which were created to keep classes organized and to form athletic teams.  Students are sorted based on the decision of the Sorting iHat, a computer-animated hat that can hold up to 10,000 songs, play videos, take pictures, speak in a British accent and do the Macarena at the exact same time. 

  
  

            

  
  

  The four houses are called Japindor, Smartassin, Randomclaw, and Hufflepuff.  Each house has its own Quidditch team along with an animal mascot.  Japindors root for the Dead Mink Coat.  Smartassin cheers on the Tomagachi.  Randomclaw worships the Miller, whatever the hell that is.  Hufflepuffs give hurrahs to the Rolled-Up Fat One.  However, no matter how hard each teams plays, the entire school is always inevitably clobbered by Livingston.

  
  

            

  
  

  What SHSWW lacks in Quidditch talent it makes up for in academic excellence. The school contains, in total, twenty-seven AP classes, all of which students claw each others’ eyes out in order to attend.  “I didn’t get into AP Dsjeolsitology,” sobbed a sixth year last week, “Now I’ll never be able to fight off Lord Voldemort, preserve the happiness in the world, and dare I say it, get into Harvard Law.”  Along with its vast array of advanced placement classes, the school also provides each of its students with his or her own magic wand, made entirely from the remains of the slaughtered deer found on Old Short Hills Road. 

  
  

            

  
  

  The faculty of SHSWW is no exception to the school’s practically flawless reputation.  Every member contributes their share of insightful knowledge to the course they teach, making each subject just as entertaining and magical as it is educational.  “I beg to differ,” an algebra teacher said just a few minutes ago, “I’ve been teaching kids what y equals for fifteen solid years now.  It only just occurred to me that nobody actually cares.” 

  
  

            

  
  

  Other faculty members that dwell within the building’s walls can actually walk through those walls, however, they choose not to.  This is because they are ghosts, souls with unfinished business to attend to.  Members of the student body most commonly refer to them as the Ghosts of Christmas Past. “Yoo hoo! Come out come out wherever you are!” said the ghost Nearly Headless Nick as he hopefully checked under a dining room table for at least a fraction of the school’s Christian minority.  “Merry Christmas,” he muttered to absolutely no one.

  
  

            

  
  

  Overall, Short Hills School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seems as though it will benefit the town and the academic futures of many young adults.  “It’s a good thing this idea was totally and completely original,” said J.K. Rowling moments before she stabbed the writer of this article and proceeded to write the seventh book to the Harry Potter series in her blood.

  • 7:28 pm
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