Hawwy cackles gleefully as he zooms toward Happy Kids Petting Zoo on his ratty old broomstick. Some rain clouds fill up the sky, and a slight drizzle makes navigating treacherous. As soon as he lands, Hawwy smells it. The disgusting, barn animal smell like the extract of dirty sneakers dipped in moldy cheese. Hawwy gags. A couple of people walk by Hawwy, and gape as he falls to the ground, clutching his neck. Is he choking himself? “Muggles! Aid me!” Hawwy gasps. When nobody responds, Hawwy points his wand at his neck and bellows like a muddy frog. A huge tuft of wet fur flies out of his throat and disintegrates midair. Hawwy gets to his stubby legs and pockets his wand his pants. He walks toward the entrance, where a hand-drawn spray-painted sign reads “Hapy Keeds Pitting Zu”. Hawwy shakes his head. Even he can spell better than that.* The nasty smell gets worse as he walks down the path to the animals. A couple of vendors are selling food. Hawwy’s stomach growls, and Hawwy pats it. “Don’t worry Billy.” He whispers to it. “You will get your feed soon enough.” Hawwy stomach stops growling. Hawwy strides up to a food truck, selling watermelon fritters. “I’ll take a basket of watermelon fritters, kind muggle.” Hawwy jams his hand into his pocket, and yanks out a ball of aluminum foil, a small hammer, some belly lint, and some Knuts. Hawwy puts the bronze coins on the counter and awaits his food. The Russian man attending the counter glares at Hawwy. “You have real money?” he asks in with a gruff Russian accent. Hawwy’s eyes turn red with anger. “Give me my food, mortal muggle!” He shrieks in a high-pitched voice. Then, someone from the back of the food truck shouts. “Is it another homeless guy Vlad?” Vlad ignores the shout, and grins, smashes his hands together. “Bring it on, child,” he growls. Vlad’s muscles bulge out of his shirt, and Hawwy has second thoughts about picking a fight with a Russian chef. He pulls out his wand and bellows a killing spell. Vlad has time to dodge of the way as a bright green beam of light flies out of Hawwy wand and shoots into the sky. He darts toward Hawwy like a mosquito and fits a meaty hand around Hawwy neck. “Ack!” Hawwy chokes again. Vlad reaches back like a baseball player, and pitches Hawwy toward the chicken pen. Hawwy flies through the air like a ragdoll, and lands with a thud in the mud, which is actually chicken waste. Hawwy gets up, disoriented. His red eyes slowly fade to the beady black color they always are. He grunts, climbing over the chicken wire. The petting zoo is quite small, and eight minutes later, its time to leave. Hawwy pulls out his broomstick, and takes off, heading toward home, a hole under a rock in a park.
*He can’t
sully 
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