#shoebox_project

"Ow, fuck," Sirius says, trying to kill his eggs with a spatula. "Bugger all this -- here, Moony, give me a hand, my eggs are dying twice."

"You're probably insane, you know," Fabian tells him. Then, he adds, "Good luck, my loony fellow! Drop me an owl or something. Not that I'm invested, I'm just sort of boggled." "This will probably end in tragedy," Remus admits. "Or apples," Fabian says. "Down the shirt and all. Mary-Ann. Really? Hm. Well, you're no Ginger, that's for certain."

Sirius regards him mournfully. "Baby, that is not a righteous groove." "What in the name of all that is holy are you talking about?" asks Remus faintly. "Moony," says Sirius rather severely, "I am getting the distinct impression that you are not hip to my jive. Are you or are you not hip to my jive?" "Something is wrong in your brain," Remus says.

One day, I'll catch him," James vows. "Or perhaps another unfortunate jellyfish that looks just like him. Or perhaps just another jellyfish.

Let's see if we can find another one of those killer attack squid," Sirius replies. "I want to capture one, and train him. Or perhaps he will capture me, and take me to his leader.

"Wotcher, Sirius," Hector says, in a crunchy voice, which echoes beneath the couch and sounds, Remus is sure of it, like death must when the end comes nigh.

"I am wounded," Sirius says, patting his chest. "If you love me, you will love my pestilence."