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Dobby's groinsaw screamed as it flew off the armor, rocketing through the air like an early dream of mankind. It flew through three astronauts who dropped their hellspears as the saw cut a hole in the ground beneath them so they fell to hell and the demonic spheres rape them to this day, boys and girls.

"I am Rape Radbury. I write critically acclaimed fiction that always turns into fact. That's why I have more money than anyone."

A nibbet of yellow cartilage landed on Rape's shoe. He thought about his cousin.

Harry awoke to the throaty grumble of a rape ape.

Not ''a'' rape ape, but ''the'' rape ape, the last of his kind after the subjugation of the rapeforest. His people once graced the canopy, their penile digits proudly grasping the vines as they swung through the night, their hundreds of sweaty simian dongs trailing a now-fetid memory in the rape ape's watering eye. As his ocular ducts began to well with ancestral pride, so too did the countless meaty members sprouting from the rape ape's every hairy inch. From his eye sockets, ear holes, even his calloused toes, a penile font of cry-juice birthed a deluge.

Harry observed this with consternation, as he was tied to a table. Neither magic nor supracosmic strength would free him from his bonds. Had this creature access to an unknown material of deistic strength? Or did the rape ape have a secret yet more baffling?

Harry squinted so he could see the subatomic strings of the ropes. He began tossing antimatter at them with his mind as a group of children entered the rape ape's hiding place. They were well-groomed and impeccably attired, and there were 5.8 of them, just enough to represent an array of genders and races that would leave no one unhappy, save for the Eskimos. They were on their own, as far as the rape ape was concerned.

"Why do you cry, rape ape?" asked child 3.2.

The rape ape, unwilling to hide its greasy primate cock tears, hung its head, and gravity coaxed the eye wangers downward. It tied them together into a bow atop its head, to be pretty for its guests.

"We are bound in this ligature of lingam, brother rape ape," said child 4.6.

The children surrounded rape ape, holding their hands, and began to sing. Harry was transfixed as he watched the children, gently swaying with the song, float skyward. The little ones began to orbit the rape ape, who was convulsing as though stricken by the seizure devil. As the song increased in tempo the childflesh bubbled and merged into a spinning wonder turbine. The fleshy kidmass sprouted hair and groin dribblers just like the rape ape, and sprayed confetti into skies of past and future, setting the constellations aflame with the opalescent of the perished rape apes. An explosion of color and hair left Harry Potter alone and still bound. He thought about sandwiches.

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