Ron was sick to death of the shop.
He used to love the place, no question. It was only natural that he ended up there, helping brother George run things after Fred was killed in the War. But the stress of dealing with customers was nothing compared with the gut-grinding agita of working alongside George.
So he left, opening a golf shop that was equally popular with muggles and wizards... for Ron’s practice balls could work wonders, magically bouncing off water, avoiding sand, and veering away from trees.
People would queue up for blocks to buy buckets of Strange Balls.
Monday, July 14, 2014
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1 comment:
I've read a bunch of your hundred word stories, but this one, without a doubt, is the weirdest thing I believe I have ever read.
Congrats.
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